Act 6, Scene 6: “Next to You”

S drags TRL to The Police concert in NYC over the summer. Growing up, TRL liked The Police, but he has no great need to see geriatrics forcing themselves together for the sake of money and/or a last gasp at soaking up the glory of playing arena rock. Sting doesn’t hit the high notes, the band is serviceable but not fun, and the audience is TRL’s age, i.e., old. Still, S loved The Police as a teenager. So much so that she also got tickets for a later show in Boston. Her logic: there would be less pressure to have a great time in NYC if she knew she would be seeing The Police again, and thus with less pressure, she would actually have more fun.

TRL bows out of the second concert, and S goes with her mom.

“How was it?” TRL asks when she gets back.

“OK, I guess. Not great,” admits S.

But then S has another concert, and three’s a charm.

S is upstairs sitting in the big leather chair in C & E’s play area. Both boys are just out of the bath and in their pajamas, and they have climbed into S’s lap. In the boom box is a Police CD, and Sting’s crisp voice fills the room. S hugs the boys to her.

“This is the best Police concert,” she purrs.

Act 6, Scene 5: “Medical Dumpster Diving”

TRL has a doctor’s appointment today. His left elbow has hurt since doing a yoga position two months ago. It has hurt before, on and off, but now it has been consistently on, the elbow and forearm hurting when he holds C or E, picks up a bag, or just opens a door. It is time to bring in the professionals.

C & E bounce around the examination room. They are all waiting for the doctor, and TRL reads them a Clifford story, attempts to test their reflexes with a rubber mallet to engage their interest, and takes their weight (31 and 33 pounds) and height (just shy of four feet). But the doctor is still not here. TRL bounces E on his knee, and turns to find C scurrying up a bright red garbage can marked BIOHAZARD.

“C, off,” TRL barks.

C shimmies down with a smile.

“Guys, let’s read some Maisy!”

TRL sits on the exam table, with C & E once again on his lap, and they read.

Still no doctor.

The boys slide off the exam table and now TRL, too, is fidgety. He turns around the room and there is E on top of the BIOHAZARD garbage can, diving into another, higher garbage can with medical waste – gowns and tissues coated in slimy stuff – poking out.

“Off,” screams TRL, and grabs E.

“Both of you, stand here,” he exclaims.

As C & E line up, TRL pumps a mound of antiseptic gel into his hand and wipes both boys up to the elbow. Some of the gel squirts off. The boys giggle, TRL is flummoxed. And the doctor finally walks in.

Both his boys are standing at attention, their sleeves rolled up to the elbows. There is a mound of antiseptic gel under them all. TRL smiles.

"Hi, doc."

Act 6, Scene 4: “Not Mutually Exclusive”

TRL asks his friend why C & E pick this week of all weeks to pee in their pants twice (E), pee in their bed (E again), and take a crap in their underpants (C).

“Why, oh why when S is away for the week?” TRL questions.

“Ah, because S is away,” answers his friend.

It’s not the acts that bother him so much as the additional changing and laundry they necessitate. “This is a really bad use of time,” TRL lectures E as he changes his clothes again.

Plus C & E have been monsters the entire week, constantly fighting with each other and screaming and crying. TRL’s nerves are frazzled.

Is the peeing and pooping and overall bitchiness cosmic punishment for him, or merely the kids reacting to S being away? wonders TRL.

Act 6, Scene 3: “Stoned for Breakfast”

TRL fed his kids peanut butter this morning, and he feels like a criminal.

S is off to Europe on business, and TRL is busy feeding C & E breakfast, packing their lunch for preschool, and doing his best to get his caffeine requirements satisfied. After C & E finish their yogurt and Rice Krispies, he asks if they are still hungry.

“Yes, daddy,” comes the reply.

TRL reaches for two spoons and the jar of Jiffy. A hunk of peanut butter is the perfect breakfast accompaniment: high in protein, tasty, and quickly delivered.

But then TRL feels like a bad man: peanut butter is banned in preschool. And TRL saw some warning signs over the food area: “Andrew can not have nuts: he is highly allergic.”

TRL knows that even a few molecules theoretically have the potential to set off a food allergy.

“Guys, come on over,” he says after C & E finish sucking the peanut butter from the spoons.

TRL washes their mouths and hands carefully, and then wipes off their shirts least any peanut butter has been smeared on it. He then gives them water to drink, to get the peanut butter smell off their breaths. It is now time to go to school.

Is TRL a criminal covering up his misdeeds? Or merely both under-cautious (he gave them peanut butter before preschool!) and over-cautious (he just gave them peanut butter). TRL sees the other parents throwing big rocks at his head, stoning him while chanting “Allergy exposure-er, allergy exposure-er.”