These Days

Manicured Lawn Hell

John Watson was normal, and I mean that in the simplest and purest way possible. He was normal; there was no adventure in his life, no danger, no thrill, just a dull, normal, apple pie life. He had a wife, Mary Watson, and a son, Hamish Watson, who was just going into second grade. They had a nice house in a nice development and had no trouble with money and no drama. John hated it. The only thing John thought worth staying for was Hamish, the only person in his life he truly loved. Mary was great of course, a beautiful woman and a great mother and wife, but there was something that was hollow in their relationship, and John couldn't just figure out what it was. Normal life just didn't suit him, he didn't like the idea of barbeques or happy families of four and plastic playgrounds in the backyard. He wanted to be looking over his shoulder constantly, he wanted to have a reason for the pistol he had hidden under his dresser, and he wanted more of a life than being a construction manager. It made good money of course, and he didn't have to travel very far most of the time because it was a growing city, but he'd be a lot happier going to war or being an FBI assassin or a spy. Anything would be better than instructing around sweaty workmen carrying hammers and wooden planks. John was just returning from work in the horrible red minivan they carted the family around in, driving past the manicured lawns and the picnic tables and the freshly painted mail boxes, it made him want to throw up honestly. But he waved to the neighbors, Mrs. Turner, the friendly neighborhood old lady, who was out watering her flowers, David, Mary's friend who had an odd obsession with the World Wars, and Archie, Hamish's school friend, who was riding his tricycle down the paved roads. John pulled into his own driveway, not bothering to put the car in the garage in hopes that a tree might fall onto it, and got out. He could smell food from inside the house, and after a long day of trudging around in the now caking mud at the worksite he was more than ready to have a nice meal. John pulled open the screen door and was attacked by a flying Hamish, who had a towel tied around his neck like a superhero and his Captain America action figures in his hands.
"Daddy!" he cried happily. John smiled, a real smile, and dropped his bag to receive the running hug he knew was coming.
"Hey kiddo." He laughed, ruffling Hamish's short blonde hair. Hamish was the only light in John's dark life, and his smile was always enough to make John temporarily forget about how miserable everything else was. Although he was only going into second grade Hamish was tall, his head coming up to about John's chest, and he was very intelligent as well. Hamish would always be complaining that school was too easy and that he wanted more intelligent teachers who are judged on their brains and not more than their ability to deal with little kids. That was John's take on elementary school as well, anyone can teach them the alphabet, and he taught Hamish things sometimes, things that he needed to know in life like math and reading.
"Hello dear." Mary said, a hot pad in her hand and a checkered apron tied around her waist. John smiled at the sight of his wife, who came up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Hamish went back to throwing the star spangled action figure down the stairs, the poor thing bouncing off the walls and the floors to his absolute delight.
"Daddy, daddy look at his head!" Hamish said happily, showing John from the top of the wooden curved stairs. The action figure's head was completely twisted around, but it seemed to only make Hamish laugh harder.
"You be careful now, grandma and grandpa only got that for you last week, you don't want to break it." Mary pointed out.
"Something smells good." John decided, hanging his hard hat on a hook and wandering into the kitchen where there was some type of meat in the oven.
"I made a chicken; decided it was time for a nice sit down meal." Mary decided. John smiled but didn't look her in the eyes, more focused on the food than the person cooking it.
"So, tomorrow's the first day?" Mary asked. John looked up as he reached to lift the handle on a sizzling pot.
"Of what?" he asked nervously. Anything could really be happening; it wasn't like he really paid attention. Could be a drought, a new exercise schedule, diet plan, or the beginning of another war, to David's delight, and he wouldn't know about it.
"Of Hamish's school, second grade remember?" Mary asked, as if John were supposed to remember things like that.
"Oh, ya, of course." John muttered, lifting up the pot to see potatoes floating around in the boiling water.
"Do you want to be there to drop him off?" Mary asked.
"I would dear, I really would, but we need to travel tomorrow down to get some more plywood from some new company. All the wood we buy now has termites; they shut down for a little while." John sighed.
"So you won't be there?" she asked with a small pouty face, as if that would change his busy work schedule.
"You can send me pictures of course, and I'll do my best to be home as early as I can." John assured. Mary looked a bit disappointed, but nodded and went back to poking the chicken in the oven with a thermometer.
"Set the table will you dear?" she asked.
"Hamish! Come help with dinner!" John called.
"Oh let him play, it's his last free day." Mary sighed.
"He needs to help out anyway, he's eating, he needs to pull his weight." John decided. Mary laughed but it wasn't a joke, and soon Hamish trotted out of the living room.
"Get the drinks please." John decided, handing Hamish two tall glasses and his little kiddy cup, decorated in all his favorite Marvel heroes.
"And take that towel off, it's all dirty." Mary decided, coming over and plucking Hamish's makeshift cape off.
"What happened to your arm?" John asked, now noticing a large Band-Aid covering the boy's elbow.
"Oh, I fell." He shrugged, clumsily pouring some milk into all of the cups and the counter.
"Our little superhero found that he couldn't really fly." Mary muttered while Hamish was distracted.
"He jumped?" John asked with slight amusement.
"From the tree." Mary agreed. John chuckled a little bit but Mary hit him with the hot pad, making John scamper away and set the table.
"So, excited for your first day?" John asked once the food was on the table and served. Mary was in the middle of cutting Hamish's chicken for him and John was a bit distracted by his own meal. Hamish just smiled through a mouthful of potatoes.
"Who's your teacher?" John asked.
"You should know this." Mary hissed. John shrugged, honestly he knew nothing of the world he lived in, and he only cared when it was convenient.
"Mr. Holmes, room 221." Mary read from a large piece of paper. The big Rose Grove Elementary School logo was on the front, the most prestigious elementary school in the area. John didn't know what was so good about it, but it was a big classy building and all of the teachers were supposedly the best. John didn't really know how good they were if they only taught the bear minimum, but he was doing his best alongside.
"Have we heard of this Mr. Holmes?" John asked, hoping that his child's teacher wasn't some weird creep.
"Not that I know of, I think he's new this year." Mary sighed.
"Oh, brilliant." John muttered.
"He sounds really cool!" Hamish squealed.
"And how would you know that?" John asked with amusement.
"His name." he shrugged, going back to his potatoes.
"Well, good thing there's parent teacher conferences this Tuesday" Mary pointed out, pointing at the schedule with her fork.
"What's that supposed to do; they don't even know the kids that well?" John asked.
"Because Rose Grove wants to make sure the parents know and are comfortable with the people teaching the class." Mary pointed out.
"Because Rose Grove is so classy." John muttered sarcastically. Personally he never liked the school, it was private and there were a lot of snobby little kids waddling around who think they could sass adults and get away with it.
"Hamish should have the best education opportunities and I think we are doing just that by providing him with Rose Grove." Mary pointed out.
"Of course." John sighed.
"I like it there." Hamish pointed out.
"Of course you do Hamish, it's a lovely school." John assured, but he glared at Mary as if accusing her of something.
"Would you like to come to the parent teacher conferences then?" Mary asked.
"No, of course not." John sighed. "When is it, Tuesday?"
"Yes."
"Then no, I'm busy again, there's a big costumer coming and I need to make sure he wants us to build for him." John decided.
"Well that's okay; I'll make sure to fill you in." Mary assured.
"This is Hamish's first male teacher; I thought it was only women who taught little kids." John pointed out.
"I'm not little!" Hamish protested.
"You have a sippy cup." John pointed out.
"John!" Mary hissed, and John held up his hands in defense.
"It's true." He muttered.
"Gender doesn't matter; it's only if they can teach the kids."
"None of them can." John sighed.
"John if you would please keep your opinions to yourself." Mary snapped. John sighed again, staring at his food and picking at the plate lazily with his fork. So this is what his life was huh, a normal average person life. How dreadful.   

On Tuesday night, as promised, Mary went over to Hamish's school and John came home from work exhausted yet satisfied. The big builder had wanted them to build him a new office building, and he was willing to pay handsomely for it. John was just lying on the couch, staring at the moving pictures on the TV without really noticing what was going on, daydreaming about a life where he could just run away. Around eight thirty Mary came back, he heard the van drive into the garage. John was kind of debating to pretend to be asleep, but Mary beat him to it.
"Hello dear." She said happily. "Watching the...um...nature channel?" John looked up in surprise to see some weird mink thing stalking a mouse and sighed, flipping off the TV.
"Not really." He sighed. "How'd the conference go?"
"Oh it was fine, he's nice I suppose, a little bit odd though." She commented, hanging her jacket up on the coat rack.
"How so?" John asked, sitting up straight to hear about this teacher fellow.
"He was very proper of course, like the others, but very manicured and all that, and he was very intimidating. His voice was so deep and he towered over everyone, sat as straight as a board, not really someone I'd expect to be teaching second graders." Mary sighed.
"So he was scary?" John asked.
"Not scary, just a bit intimidating." Mary decided.
"Well if I hear one thing against him I'm having Hamish's class moved." John assured.
"Have you even asked Hamish about how he likes school?" Mary asked.
"I just got home." John complained.
"It is eight thirty!" Mary growled. "Get up there and talk to your son!"
"Don't you want to know how the job went?" John asked hopefully, not wanting to move at all.
"No, not the slightest." Mary snapped. John groaned, but Mary had that determined tone in her voice, and he knew that if he didn't move that he'd be sent straight to the pits of Hell.
"Alright, alright." He sighed, struggling to his feet and feeling like his entire body was made of lead. He trekked up the steps and knocked on the door of Hamish's bedroom, which was covered in coloring pages and signs, all a crayon mess of course.
"Come in!" Hamish called. John opened the door to find Hamish sitting on the bed, his TV on, and a cartoon playing loudly.
"Shouldn't you be about ready for bed?" John asked.
"You're not in bed." Hamish pointed out.
"Yes, but I'm an adult." John defended. He sat on the bed next to Hamish and turned off the TV, making the boy frown.
"I was watching that." Hamish muttered.
"How was your first two days of school? Sorry, it's been so busy that I haven't been able to ask you yet." John pointed out.
"It's great, Archie is in my class!" Hamish said happily.
"Oh, that's good, and how do you like your teacher?" John asked.
"Oh he's awesome! He's so much fun and he lets us eat snacks in the classroom and he even gave me some third grade math worksheets to do!" Hamish said excitedly.
"Oh finally, someone who actually knows what they're doing." John sighed. "So you like your class and all that?"
"Oh ya!" Hamish said, kicking his feet against the edge of the bed happily.
"Any girls you've got your eye on?" John asked with a laugh.
"No daddy, ew!" Hamish exclaimed, as if that were the most disgusting thing he could ever think of.
"When you're older I suppose." John said with a laugh.
"Did mommy meet Mr. Holmes?" Hamish asked.
"Oh, yes, she just got back."
"What did she say?" Hamish asked.
"Well, she said that he was very polite and looked like a very good teacher." John assured.
"Well he is a good teacher, so she'd be right." Hamish agreed.
"Good. Well, then I guess you should get into your pajamas then, brush your teeth and all that." John decided.
"But I'm not tired!" Hamish defended.
"You will be if you stay up." John pointed out, throwing the small car print pajamas onto the bed. "Come on, get a move on, I'll come say good night in a little bit okay?"
"Oh, fine, but just because I don't want to be tired tomorrow for school." Hamish sighed, as if going to bed were really so hard. Enjoy it while you can Hamish, because when you grow up sleep is more precious than gold.