I meant to write about this a month ago. Coming across a photo reminded me.
July 31, 2020
“Dad, I wanna barbecue,” my 3rd son Brandon said to me as I got dressed after a midday shower. It was another one of those hot-ass days and I was already frustrated about our having to buy a new lawn mower to replace the old one. I knew I should have waited until after completing the minor assembly on the new one to take my shower, but since I wasn’t going to be the one to do the mowing, I wasn’t worried about exerting any energy and getting sweaty. I had already told the boys that when they were little, I did ALL of the mowing and snow shoveling by myself and now that they were physically able, I was retired, for LIFE.
Flashback: I remember asking my father why he didn’t buy a snow blower or lawn mower. He replied, “Why should I buy either one when I’ve got four snow blowers and four lawn mowers right here at home?” Word to the wise – never call your father cheap if you like how your pants loosely fit over your buttocks.
“You know we need to buy a new gas grill too, right?” I reminded. The purchase was not in the budget and I really wasn’t feeling having to assemble that too.
“I don’t mind buying a small, $30 portable charcoal grill. If I do, can we make some dogs and burgers today?”
He really wanted to grill. I grabbed my keys. I had no reason to deny him and wasn’t looking for one. Cause I like to eat.
About an hour later, we were back home and I was showing him the easy steps for the grill assembly of his new purchase before I went back to the garage to finish prepping the new lawn mower. When he was finished, I talked him through the charcoal loading and spreading process and basic safety procedures. He was ready in no time, having set up just off the front porch, instead of the back deck. He’d told me he just wanted to “cop a squat” and grill from the porch.
By the time he was well into the dog-turning and burger-flipping process, I had cleaned out the front of the garage, filled the new mower with gas and oil and sent son #2 (Kevin) off with it to restore our lawn to a state where small animals couldn’t hide in it. I walked back around to the porch to find my son dancing to his old school hip hop while eating a burger and flipping the others.
“Want one?” he asked, not skipping a beat while dancing.
“I want TWO.”
By this time, son #4 (Jason) came walking out with his “doesn’t that look good?” face which always revealed that he had been
waiting hiding until the food was ready, but he had no intentions of helping. He just had no idea what I had in store for him for not making himself available and failing to reply when I called him earlier. Brandon rolled his eyes at Jason and handed me the spatula as he walked inside to use the bathroom just before Jason ran off with a burger.
[The sound of the ice cream truck]
“Dad! Stop the ice cream truck!!!” Brandon yelled from inside.
“Are you kidding me?” I yelled back. The truck was at the corner, running perpendicular to our street and pulling away.
“If you stop him, I’m paying!”
Say what you want, but I DID catch the Ice Cream Man.
Brandon came out and quickly whipped out his wallet as I smiled, holding my Strawberry Crunch, knowing my kids were no longer babies and could do their part around the house. Brandon, being the most generous of the boys and making the most money, never had a problem with paying for junk food, fast food and everything else bad for me. Of course every now and then he’d get a head of lettuce, but that was when he was also getting ground beef, shredded cheese, Pico de gallo, sour cream and tortillas to go with it.
So we had hot dogs, burgers, ice cream and old school hip hop, music to which I would soon lose a one-on-one dance contest against him. A contest that resulted in a shirt, wet with ice cream drippings and perspiration.
Back to the showers…
Anyway, there’s no purpose to this story. It was just another Davis Family Adventure with three of the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse (as I call them).
Just know that it was a good day…
…and you should appreciate every single one.