Ship-Shape

I got a behind-the-scenes look at two households in action one evening. The first was the household of my new client, the Burbanks. The second was my own.

I had arrived at the Burbank home with my market analysis in hand, to discuss listing their home for sale. Mrs. Burbank answered the door with a dishrag in her hand and a harried look on her face. She waved me in before I could finish my introduction.

“I’ll be with you in a few minutes; make yourself at home,” she said quickly as she cleared a spot at the table.

She pointed toward the kitchen as she hurried away. “Help yourself to some juice or water.”

“Darlene!” she shouted, “I told you no T.V. till your homework is done! Bobby! Maxine! Clean up your messes and get ready for dinner!”

Coloring books, shoes, papers, backpacks, and kid stuff were scattered throughout the living room and family room, and the kids bounded around happily screaming and chasing each other through the chaos. Mrs. Burbank barked more orders to no effect. The TV blared.

The sound of a phone ringing was faintly heard above the racket.

“That was your father!” yelled Mrs. Burbank. “He’ll be home in ten minutes!”

Those were the magic words. The T.V. silenced. The kids snapped to attention and went to the business of cleaning up.

When Mr. Burbank came through the front door, the kids and Mrs. Burbank were there to greet him like a military line-up ready for inspection. He looked the part of The General in his crisp suit and tie, attaché case in hand. His troops were smiling, quiet, and in order; his domain ship-shape. I was impressed and felt a pang of envy.

Back at the office, I called home and announced I was on my way in a General-like manner.

When I came through the front door, I surveyed my domain: Chaos. My oldest sat at the coffee table surrounded by an explosion of paper, schoolbooks, pens, pencils, and paint. The middle and youngest were careening about the place screeching and flinging toys this way and that. The T.V. blared.

“Daddy!” they screamed when they saw me. They all rushed me.

“What a mess, you guys,” I said.

My words were ignored. The kids climbed me like a Jungle Gym and made me swing them by their arms. They made me get down on my hands and knees, climbed onto my back, and rode me around through the chaos and mess.

I was envious of Mr. Burbank, but I felt bad he missed out on all the chaos.