Waiting for the Furniture to Move

Wednesday.

My last workday before a four-day weekend.

I keep looking around my office expecting something to happen.

A desk shifts.

A monitor unplugs itself.

Maybe a chair rolls across the room.

Somewhere, a candelabra starts singing.

Anything.

Unfortunately, despite what Beauty and the Beast led me to believe as a child, furniture remains remarkably unhelpful.

Thankfully, my family is considerably more useful.

Tomorrow, homeschool pauses for Asher.

My wife and Asher are joining me for the beginning of the great office migration.

Zoey still has school.

Her deal is simple:

Get the work done.

Then come join the chaos.

So at some point tomorrow, it'll be the four of us.

Computers coming down.

Desks moving.

Years of accumulated stuff getting pulled apart, evaluated, reorganized, relocated, or shown the door.

I'm sure we'll have completely different opinions about where at least seventeen things belong.

That's part of the fun.

The goal isn't necessarily to finish everything tomorrow.

It's to finally start turning this room into the space I've been imagining.

Work has a place.

Gaming has a place.

Streaming has a place.

And maybe Dad can have a little breathing room between all three.

But that's tomorrow.

Today is still Wednesday.

There are meetings to finish.

Loose ends to tie up.

Things that need to be handed off or put somewhere safe before I disappear from work for a few days.

And there's actually quite a bit from this short workweek worth celebrating.

Earlier this week, we introduced something revolutionary to David and Jacob.

A checklist.

They were thrilled.

That's a lie.

They both insisted they didn't need one.

Dad disagreed.

Dad won.

We're trying to help them build more responsibility around what happens after school.

Lunchboxes.

Homework.

Reading.

The little things that need to happen before the computers turn on and the evening gets away from us.

Sometimes teaching responsibility means giving someone enough structure to practice being responsible.

Yesterday was their second full day with it.

They flew.

Everything got done.

And it got done early.

David has another checklist now too.

Baseball.

He's taking that one seriously.

A little hitting.

A little throwing.

Some movement.

Nothing excessive.

Just consistent work on the fundamentals.

Yesterday he finished his batting work, and somehow the evening gave us another ten minutes.

So Jacob came outside too.

The three of us started playing catch.

Nothing complicated.

No elaborate drill.

Just Dad and two sons throwing a baseball back and forth.

Then Asher joined us.

Just a few tosses.

Nothing serious.

But he wanted to be there.

He wanted the ball.

He wanted to try.

And right now, that's all I care about.

He's showing some interest.

Maybe that turns into baseball.

Maybe it doesn't.

But I can already see some one-on-one time in our future.

Dad and Asher outside with a glove.

Slowing everything down.

Helping him build some of those skills at his own pace.

I'm looking forward to that.

Ten minutes.

Four gloves.

Dad and three boys tossing a baseball around.

Those are ten minutes I'm never going to complain about finding.

Then came Jacob's test.

We've been trying to figure out spelling.

His reading has improved tremendously, but spelling continues to be one of those bottlenecks that doesn't seem interested in moving as quickly.

So we're trying something new.

Again.

Last night he took his first home spelling test using the new approach.

12 out of 20.

Now, twelve out of twenty might not sound like a number worth throwing a parade over.

Around here?

Huge.

A real improvement over where he's been.

Progress we can actually see.

So we celebrated.

Pizza.

Wishbone.

Family around the television.

Then two boys disappearing into the computer room for some very well-earned screen time.

That's something I want them to understand too.

We don't only celebrate perfection.

We celebrate progress.

Especially progress earned through effort.

Which brings me back to today.

A couple meetings.

A few loose ends at work.

Some schoolwork I need to finish because tomorrow my computers will cease being computers and become an inconvenient collection of cables, monitors, and expensive rectangles.

Then I log out.

For four days.

Not four days of doing nothing.

Let's not get carried away.

Four days of a different kind of full.

The office transformation.

Family.

Projects.

Probably several trips to the hardware store for things I was absolutely certain we already owned.

Saturday brings family pictures.

Sunday brings a baseball doubleheader.

And somewhere in all of that, I'm hoping there's some time to simply enjoy being away from work.

Tomorrow morning, I'm turning off the alarms.

Not forever.

I'm a long, long way from that.

But for one Thursday morning?

Dad is stealing a few extra minutes of sleep.

Then we get up.

We tear the office apart.

And we see where everything lands.

Friday, hopefully, I'll be writing from somewhere that resembles the beginning of the space I've been imagining.

Saturday, we'll try to get six human beings looking in roughly the same direction for family pictures.

Sunday, I'll be back behind a fence watching number 12 play two baseball games.

Then, before any of us are ready...

Monday will arrive.

It always does.

But I'm not there yet.

I'm here.

Wednesday.

One workday left to finish.

A long weekend waiting on the other side.

A couple little wins worth appreciating.

Three boys who spent a few minutes throwing a baseball around with Dad.

One kid who got twelve spelling words right.

And an office full of furniture stubbornly refusing to animate itself.

Fine.

Tomorrow...

We'll move it.

Together.

Sometimes progress needs structure before it becomes habit. A checklist isn't particularly exciting, twelve correct spelling words aren't perfection, ten minutes of playing catch isn't a full practice, and moving some desks won't magically create balance. But small things repeated have a funny way of becoming bigger things. This week I've watched my boys start finding a rhythm, watched Jacob see evidence that his work is paying off, watched David voluntarily put more effort into something he loves, and watched Asher quietly step into a game of catch because he wanted to try. Tomorrow we get to apply some of that same thinking to my space. We'll move some things, try something different, probably change our minds a few times, and see what works. Like most things around here, even a project that's technically mine becomes better when the family gets involved. Progress doesn't always need to be dramatic to deserve celebrating.

Much love.

Stay safe.

Wash your damn hands.

And I will see you, next time.