Indoors Column: My Bad

I had grown to accept the fact that I am not a good listener.  After all, every day, my wife and children point out my inadequacy, multiple times, usually by saying, “I already told you that.”

 

I chalked it up to aging.  Perhaps I don’t hear quite as well anymore, or maybe I’ve just gotten more forgetful.  I have no trouble accepting blame.

 

However, I had a moment of clarity last week that has me wondering if this is all really my fault.

 

As I walked in the door from a long day at the office, I was greeted by every member of my family, as always.

 

Charlotte began asking me which characters were my favorites in a series of books I have never read.  Callum was running through a list of professional wrestlers, asking me which ones are in the Hall of Fame.  Cady was handing me toys and random shoes, one after another and would then run away after each delivery as if she expected me to chase her.  Autumn was trying to explain what Cooper had failed to complete in school that day, while Coper simultaneously denied all charges.  All of this was occurring over a loud, repetitive chorus of, “Somebody wipe my butt.  Somebody wipe my butt,” that Clane was booming from the bathroom.

 

But, yes.  I did forget to take the grocery list to work with me on Friday morning.

 

My bad.