No more weekends
One day at a time, I remind myself now, and I mean it.
My problems started when they closed the beach. The beach where he would swim way out until his head was just a dot. Where he’d let the littlest one climb on his back, and run splashing through the shallows, drenching them both.
He’d come home exhausted, gulp down whatever I put in front of him and sleep for hours. Oh, the joy of those peaceful afternoons.
But then they closed the beach, and it was all up to me. Sedate walks in the park? A quick jog, off-leash if nobody was looking, detouring to sniff out the action around the coin-operated barbecues? That was never going to be enough.
Without his beach time, he was unbearable—endless demands for food, attention, entertainment. Without beach time, he’d be pushing his nose into every corner and barking displeasure at every provocation. Like he was top dog.
So I started claiming some me time. I implemented the ‘one day at a time’ rule.The kids were peeved. Their begging and whining were endless.
So i gave in. I agreed to a whole weekend, like before.
“You’ll be sorry,” my friends said, and I was.
Come Sunday night it was all I could do to snap on his collar and drag him into the car and back to the compound.
“Never again,” I told the kids. “Dads can’t do sleepovers. Without beach time to wear him out, one day is enough.”
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My story for this week’s prompt provided by The Unicorn Challenge, hosted by Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr.