"What's linguistics?" she asked. I explained that it's the study of language, but most of the tests were really just simple grammar exercises, and anyone who could recognize whether "I bringed my lunch" or "I brought my lunch" had a good chance of doing well in this class. This called to mind one day when the professor was discussing the "sph" phoneme, and how "sphere" was the only example in English.

I told Alex that I immediately thought of the word "sphincter" but didn't want to draw attention to myself.

"What's a sphincter?" she asked.

I paused, aimed and poked. Alex yelled "YIIIIIIIIiiiiiiIIII!!"

Andrew perked up. "What? What did you say?"

"Alex wanted to know what a sphincter was."

"What IS it?"

"TELL HIM, DAD!"

Yesterday Lola was over for an after-school playdate. The girls were in the basement, quiet, and Rachel was taking advantage of the time to get some quotidian chores done. It's difficult to vacuum a home with kids. Either they're running around everywhere, demanding your attention, or it's 9:30 pm and you're too damn tired to get started.

When Lola had to go home, the price of that quiet was discovered. Come with me now on a photographic safari of my basement. I had to help clean it up last night after dinner.

First, we head down the stairs.

This is an unholy marriage of baby toys, dress-up clothes, and Dora The Explorer toys,  presided over by  Thomas the Tank Engine.

The trail continues into the bathroom...

Okay, now Andrew's forgotten and discarded Rescue Heroes are joining the orgy.

 
On the bathroom floor, we are joined by stuffed animals. I'm noticing puddles closer to the toilet.

The sink is full of water, with all of Dora The Explorer's worldly goods packed on top. The paper towel roll is wet.

We asked Elizabeth if she knew that a line of civility was crossed, and she protested that she told Lola "No", but Lola didn't listen. So we should blame Lola, not her.

We wondered aloud if Lola even has a superego, and Elizabeth told us that Lola knew full well the scope of her destruction. "She said, wow, your mom's going to be mad!"

Next time Lola comes to visit - five minutes of quiet will trigger an alarm.

Andrew woke up at the crack of dawn, per usual. He made a conscious effort not to come in and tell us that he was awake, but he stomps when he walks, and he pees likes he's ringing a dinner bell.

It was the enthusiastic shutting of dresser drawers that woke up his sister. Elizabeth stumbled into our bedroom and climbed between us. Mindful of Rachel's request, I let Elizabeth tug on my hair. She likes to touch hair with her right hand while she sucks her left thumb. Her favorite hair is her brother's "because it's curly" but he can't stand it. This comes up a lot when they are sitting on the couch watching television or riding in the car. 

(I probably mind it the least of all the family members when Elizabeth monkey-grooms my head, but for obvious reasons, my head is her fourth choice.) 

Anyway, I was lying there, feeling the tugs, thinking that it was a easy sacrifice to make for my weary wife. I imagined her sleeping blissfully, unaware of the kid-tornado next to her, since I was silently absorbing all the motion.

It turned out, after later discussion and attempts to take credit, that Rachel thought the same thing was happening to me.

Both Andrew and Alex had auditions for plays after the first day of school. The theater group meets at a church in our neighborhood. They both did a great job, and I was especially proud of Andrew, who was taking a more unfamiliar step than his big sister. Rachel overheard him and told me that he was the kid who sings in tune.

Alex's was asked to attend callbacks the next night. Rachel dropped her off with a book and went on to attend the back-to-school night at the preschool where she's teaching this year. I put the younger kids to bed early. Elizabeth, totally wiped from her exhausting kindergarten day, was asleep by quarter to eight.

At 8:15, Alex called me with her new "I'm in Middle School now" cell phone and told me that she was done. I told her I couldn't come get her, what with the sleeping babies, and that she should send her mother a text and let her know. Alex agreed and hung up. She has a very limited number of minutes on her phone and she husbands them carefully.

Five minutes later, she called again to say that she hadn't heard from Rachel, and that she was just going to walk home. I was surprised by this assertion, but recovered quickly. Is it raining? I asked her. Nope. Got your cell phone? Yup. Okay, see you soon.

A minute later, Rachel called to say that Alex had texted her. I said, yes, and she's walking home now.

This information was not received well.

We realized that we had a conflict in what Star Trek fans would call our prime directives. Rachel's is to keep the children alive. Mine is to help them grow up. They are not really in conflict, but have different tactics.

Rachel said that it was dark, cars were not expecting a little girl walking, and Alex was wearing dark clothing. And there's a part of the route without sidewalks.

I argued that Alex was canny enough to look out for cars, and the un-sidewalked segment of the route, along the school playground, was easy enough to walk along safely. And while I would not have suggested this idea to Alex, I was extremely proud of her for volunteering it, and was not going to discourage her.

Rachel conceded that Alex was unlikely to get squooshed this time, but it was still an unnecessary risk for the future. I conceded that Alex could be told not to walk home at night, but that I was not an irresponsible person for allowing her to do so this time.

Both Andrew and Alex got roles in their respective plays, so there's going to be a lot of pickups and dropoffs in the near future.

Andrew being Andrew, he starts getting tense around five pm, lest he miss the 7:30 start time.He might benefit from a watch that beeps every night at 7:25 pm.

There was one night when Andrew's "Mom....Mom.....Mommm" was echoing hauntingly from the bathroom upstairs. We were ignoring him, but we still winced every time we heard him. I finally went up to the door and implored him to just get out of the tub and get into pajamas so we could read books and get to bed.

"But I don't have pajamas here," he sighed.

"So go to your drawer and get some," I replied, struggling to keep my voice to a reasonable tone. It had been a difficult dinner, with lots of cross-child sniping.

"But I'll be wet."

"So grab a towel!"

[pause] "...I need you to bring me a towel."

As I reported this to Rachel, she wondered if perhaps she had made a mistake long ago, being too available to her children, sabotaging their ability to help themselves.

This morning, though, everyone was authentically jolly. There was a pivotal moment when Andrew and Elizabeth were sitting at the breakfast table. Andrew had walled himself off with cereal boxes and his sister asked if she could have one. I braced myself for the shouting, but Andrew said, "Sure" and handed her the biggest one. "Thanks!" she chirped in response. And I let out a sigh of relief.

See if you can guess which things I say at work and which things I say at home.

• That website won't load because the name server is down. It's outside our control, but I bet it will be back up soon.
• Has anyone fed the cat? Because she's going nuts.
• Please, oh PLEASE, shut the door while you're pooping.
• Did it keep happening after you rebooted?
• Excuse me, you left a wet towel on the floor.
• I'm restoring those files Annette asked for.
• We should put Emily's present away so it still looks nice by her birthday party.
• Can you maybe move into a different room if she's bothering you so much?

"NO!" she said, with the indignant face on, the one that is not always borne out by real events.

"Because I see that the toilet is full, and you were the only one up here."

Rachel chimed in, "is it poop?"

"No," I said.

"I didn't even GO!" exclaimed Alex, her eyes wide in alarm.

"That would mean," I said, leaning in close like a detective pressuring a suspect in the interview room, "that the situation has been brewing since this morning."

Alex said, "Why don't you stick your finger in it and see if it's still warm?"

Rachel wonders why her brother didn't ask her for advice.