When I woke up this morning, I had to accept my banal quotidian existence rather than seeing modern Beijing from the back seat of a Chinese taxi. OK, it wasn’t perfect. My mom was in the front seat and my brother in the back, picking fights, but even in a dream world you can’t have everything.

I’m sorry, folks. I have nothing new to say. No bursts of creative energy with which to invite Lamont and Dude or even to write a cynical love story. The big events of my life yesterday were a couple of visits with the kids, successfully removing four nails from the fence boards and realizing that proceeding in this fashion ruins the wood I want. I’m not blaming the virus. I don’t think life would be any more exciting right now without it. This is summer. This is the time of year when, as a kid, I used to wish school would start. Apropos of that…

Yesterday afternoon, Teddy and I stopped by the kids’ house to see Connor with a golf club hitting balls toward the house. He kept swinging passionately — somewhere between hitting a golf ball and hitting a baseball. He always missed the ball. “Hey, Connor, try this. Don’t look at your swing,” I said. “Keep your eyes on the ball.” He was teeing up and everything. A LOT of golf stuff lands in the yards of the houses across from the golf course and in the alley. Once he started watching at the ball, he started hitting it. Whether or not that’s a good thing will depend on if any windows get broken.

“I’m going to get a golf set for Christmas,” he said. The club he was using was as long as he is tall.

Meanwhile, Michelle was trying to teach Teddy to “play dead” by showing him how to do it. “Play dead, Teddy. You do it like this.” She lay on her back, all four legs in the air. It was adorable, but meant nothing to Teddy.

I finally said, “You guys are in third grade now, right?”

“Yeah, in August,” said Connor.

“Teddy’s just in kindergarten,” I explained. “He doesn’t know much yet.”


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