“Son,” I said. “I would really appreciate it if you shut your alarm off–instead of just snoozing it–before you get in the shower.”
“Hzsbec… Wha? Okay, dad.”
“Thanks, kiddo. You know your mom hasn’t been feeling well, and we’ve been up late. Sure appreciate it.”
“Sure, dad. Wanna play Monster Techno Chainsaw Zombie Slayer?”
The next day: birds are chirping, the warm light of dawn is peeking in the ghost the shades…
“EHN, EHN, EHN” wails the alarm. No one’s turning it off. The soft sounds of a shower are heard.
A shower? He did it again!
Bleary-eyed dad wrenches himself out of bed, shuffles across the hall, turns off the alarm. Meanwhile, steam wafts under the door of the kids’ bathroom. Must be nice…
Wait. Dad knows! Time for Mr. iPod and Mrs. Cellphone to be disappeared. Dad takes them, hides them, tries to find his happy place under the warm covers.
“DAD! WHERE’S. MY. PHONE? AND MY IPOD?”
“Go away. Don’t miss the bus.”
“I NEEED MY PHONE. GIVE IT TO ME NOW.”
“Listen, kid–are we gonna do this? Right here, right now? You’re really gonna argue about that stuff when you need to catch the bus? You don’t wanna throw down with me.”
“BUT WHY? WHAT DID I DO?”
“You missed the bus yesterday, I had to take you to school, and you let your alarm blare into the darkness yet again. Even after I told you to. Turn. It. Off. So I took your stuff. You can have it back later.”
“I thought it was off. I NEED MY PHONE. NOW!”
“Step off, son. Are you trying to wake the dead? Great! You woke up your sister. Just go. Stop arguing, and get yourself to the bus.”
“BUT… BUT…” Sputter, shuffle, slam.
“Oh, God,” I prayed. “Give me grace.”
NOTA BENE: I can neither confirm, nor deny, the veracity of this story, but rather leave it up to you, gentle reader, to decide for yourself if it’s true.