Have you ever
wanted to go into your boss’s office, get into a great big argument and then
sweep everything off his desk in one angry motion? Wouldn’t it be great to do that? I think it would be cathartic in some way, to
use your arm to “clear the desk”.
During this month, Jonah
lived that dream every day. In fact,
Jonah’s major occupation throughout the day was to make sure that we had
nothing on any of our tabletops. From
the coffee table books to the pictures on our side table, Jonah’s mission in
life was to keep them free of clutter.
Here’s how he did
it. He waited until I had three books
stacked in front of me on the coffee table, a fourteen-inch stack of papers (organized
alphabetically) on the side table, and a steaming cup of coffee beside me
before he struck. (If he couldn’t wreck
my train of thought, how fun would it truly have been?) Anyway, he crawled along the floor,
ninja-like, and waited for his opportunity to pounce.
Usually, he would
sit on the floor, playing with a truck or creating a Rockwellian scene that can
only be captured by our nation’s finest artists. In addition, Jonah had a weapon that many
babies have, but few use to cause mayhem:
it is cuteness. With a heart full of sweetness and a diaper full of
other things, he created a diversion by being cute. So, he waited until I looked up from a book
and think “Aw, isn’t that cute?” Before
he began.
Picture the
scene: I began contemplating my supreme
fortune at having such a cute child, wondering what other, less-than-cute
children did to cope with life. Yes, I was
downright arrogant in my estimation that my son is an adorable creature and, at
the same time, I was also empathetic to those people who were forced to raise
ogres and act like they’re cute. After
my reverie, I went back to reading, forgetting I had such a child.
Then, Jonah struck. He moved quickly to the coffee table, where
he took his chubby little arm and scattered the books I stacked there. While I went over to the disheveled pile of
books, Jonah spun around, performed a double back flip with a twist (he’s a
ninja, remember?) and landed on his feet with his hands firmly planted on the
sides of the table. He would giggle
loudly as he scattered the papers and watched them float to the floor.
At this point,
everything moved in slow motion. As the
papers fell around me like snow flurries, I realized that Jonah was looking at
my steaming cup full of coffee.
I turned
around. His little hand reached for the
cup. My larger hand reached for the cup,
barely getting it before he could grab for it.
As I snatched it away, however, I slung coffee all over the books, the
papers, and me. There we stood: coffee-soaked books and papers all over the
floor as Jonah smiled triumphantly at the newly-cleared tables.
It was his duty in
life, nay his holy mission, to keep everything off the tables. He’s done a great job.
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