he's just like his father

with some inexplicable internal need

to have a mountain of books

on the night stand

at all times

hangout

Nine sweaty basketball players retire to my basement

a large scale pillow fight ensues

as I descend the stairs a fog envelopes me

I open a window in the dead of winter but it makes little difference

at 6:00 p.m. they ascend out of the abyss

and announce their desire to make cookies

an egg hits the floor, a bag of brown sugar explodes

double batch of oatmeal chocolate chip dough awaits their return from scouts

hot cookies, cold milk, rowdy boys

It's even better than I hoped it would be