Vergil’s Coffee

It’s not a question I enjoy since the youngest son has become obsessed with Meredeth Vieira. If you remember the special features on the DVD version of The Lion King 1 ½, there’s the “test your knowledge” of “all things Disney Lion King” in the form of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” called “Who Wants to be King of Jungle” (or “Pride” or “Mountain” or something like that). You are Timon and the whole “Millionaire” motif is carried out so that you can have fun whiles you recount scenes and characters. And so, after hours of playing the interactive DVD game, Colin has taken to sharing the game experience with us his family. It’s a long, drawn out affair as he tries to ask the questions, and give the choices in the same tone as Merideth. Most challenging for us, his family, are the questions that go “Who’s in this picture?” We’d chorus: “Colin, how can we answer that question when we don’t have a picture in front of us?” And Colin would say, “It doesn’t matter” and repeat the question “Who’s in this picture?” and begin listing the choices. It’s a difficult question with no picture to reference.

I’m hoping he doesn’t actually have a thing for Meredeth.

It amazes me that many people reference Disney as the “family-friendly” content provider. DisneyWorld is the place that you take your family; the Disney films are fun for the whole family to watch together; and the DisneyChannel gives us the family-friendly High School Musical and Hannah Montana (both of which I know nothing about because I have boys). What’s strange to me is what we’ve grown to know as the fairly well-used, typical Disney film plot: it begins with a single parent family and a child who wants something more out of life and culminates with a little magic and a “happily ever after” ending. And I really wonder where’s the “family-friendly” in a single parent household.

I considered this once or twice the past week as my wife took holiday to Florida for a week and it was me and the 10-year-old “all things PlayStation2” Evan and the 7-year-old “Who’s in this picture?” Colin. (I could include Luke the Cat, but he’s more or less a prop in our house and doesn’t really count as a person). I could tell you how hard it was to make sure the boys got off to school fine (waking, dressing, making breakfast and lunches, combing hair and reminding of brushing teeth), but it wasn’t that incredibly hard. I could tell you that planning and making dinner and doing the night time routine was exhausting, but it wasn’t. If anything, I found that I was out of my routine and the extra duties were not convenient for me. In fact, I had more concentrated time with Evan and Colin and we all had moments that could not have been created and shared if Mom was there. Evan and I talked about his day during dinner and Colin, well, asked me “Who’s in this picture?” questions. What was most difficult for me was what to do when the boys were in bed.

It was too quiet and still.

I wonder if this is how my mom felt as the three of us finally got to sleep and she was left by herself to listen to the quiet and stillness. I also wonder about some of my students and their families where it’s just mom or dad at home and what mom and dad hear and feel. And sometimes I think about a few of my students who are the parent and how it is for them and who will not magically realize that in a week’s time, the “other” half of the parenting group will be back in the house and be hearing about how we gave new names to Colin and Evan, and how Evan will insist that dad do that silly voice that makes the name story even more funny.

We were to watch Blades of Glory that night. I could have watched it by myself, but I decided that if it was a film to endure, she should have to endure it with me. Instead we talked—about the crowded Tampa airport, about her seeing the Harlem Globetrotters walking in the Atlanta airport, about how Evan actually gave her a hug when she got home and how Colin asked her “Who’s in this Picture?” And I think I realized that it is easier to be the one returning than to be the one who remains.