What we have here is a failure to communicate

Ethan called to be picked up from a friend's.

I rolled up. He got in.

Me (cranky): We didn't know you were here, you know.

Ethan: I called your cell phone and mom's and the house.

Me: (silent, thinking: Shoot, the kid did his duty.)

Later in the evening, my cell phone screen said there was a message. It's a pain to check voice mails on my phone, and I figured that the message must be from Ethan, so I ignored it.

This morning, when I drove up to pick up my carpool buddy, he came out dressed except for bare feet.

"I left you a message last night. I have to drive separately today because ... " Well, he just needed to.

Ethan hadn't said that he'd left a message, come to think of it. I just assumed that.

No big deal, but the point is: I gotta get better at checking my messages, and I gotta get worse at assuming.

Furthermore: Keith, Ya Goof!

Say it ain't soap.

Am I such a bad guy if one of the kids who sometimes comes over to our house on Sunday afternoon gets under my skin?

Well, sort of. He invites Emmett over a lot, which makes for quiet Sunday afternoons.

But you parents out there know how it is with some kids. They just make you—grrrrrrr. But when your kid is at his house a lot, ya gotta have him over some of the time. Keep a kind of balance.

Yesterday struck me as a good day to have this kid over, because we were all planning to go to a dog show in the next town over. That would eat up some time.

But not enough. We left the show about 2:00. The time to hand the kid back over—the golden horizon in my mind—was 2:30.

We used another 20 minutes on a visit to an elderly member of our church who lives around the corner from this kid.

10 minutes to freedom.

But we couldn't just—you know, wait in the kid's driveway. That finish wouldn't be nearly elegant enough. So I set a plan in motion.

"Let's zip over to the Super Sheetz," I said. "I have a car wash coming."

I was talking about the showcase Sheetz store on 17th Street in Altoona, complete with restaurant seating, coffee bar and car wash. I explained that the day before, I had paid for a car wash through the gas pump and received a receipt with a code. I hadn't used the code right then because there turned out to be a long line at the wash.

When we got to the wash, there was a line again. But I had to have the wash sometime. I got into the line. I instantly regretted it when I multiplied the number of cars by the time of an average car wash. But by then, there was another car behind us.

One hour later, we rolled out nice and clean. After spending more quality time with the kid. We turned him over at 3:45. And it was ... All. My. Fault.

Keith, Ya Goof!