Saturday Plans

Jill: You type and I’ll speak.

Jeff: Yes, dear.

Jill: I know we said we were going to talk about bath and bedtime, but we have no plans for Saturday.

Photo courtesy of Eddie~S (flickr.com)

Jeff: Yes, dear. I do want to say that many many times when it’s the witching hour, when we have to get Alex into the bath or get his teeth brushed, that I ask you to do something to help and you’re reading the Times at the dining room table. But, since you’re doing that right now and paying no attention to what I’m typing, what do you want to say about Saturday plans?

Jill: Farmers’ market?

Jeff: What about grocery shopping and maybe the Aquarium? Why do we need a Saturday plan?

Jill: Ned’s not here, we have no Saturday rec program for Alex, and we have nothing to do. We can’t sit around here all day bickering and tripping over toys.

Jeff: We’ve done that before.

Jill: (Nods. Smiles pinched smile.) And at the end of the day, nobody was that happy.

Jeff: What’s Alex doing right now? What’d he think of Fantasia?

Jill: He could take it or leave it; mostly leave it. “Alex, you didn’t like Fantasia?”

Jeff: What’d he say?

Jill: Nothing. You know he mostly doesn’t answer questions like that.

Jeff: We need to go grocery shopping. What about that? Alex likes to push the cart.

(Phone rings. Jill goes and answers it. Alex fusses around the dining room table, wordlessly.  Jill talks on the phone in the kitchen; at the dining room table, one of her knitting needles clatters to the floor where Alex has dropped it. He finds a yarmulke on the table and tries it on, again without a word. “Alex,” I say, “go show Mommy in the kitchen. In the kitchen.” He runs in to show her.)

Jill: OK. So… shopping. Aquarium. Not bad. Better than those unplanned, formless days.