6, 8, and 14 Athenians

I have the boys tonight—my nephews.                                                          

The last time I saw them, Nono (6) said, “Three, when are we gonna stay at your house?”

“I will come get you next weekend,” I told him.

It’ll be a blink before they aren’t asking me those questions anymore.

Busy with friends.

Sports.

Gettin’ older.

Life.

But that’s not today.

Today they are six and eight and watching The Croods in my guest room.

I read to them.

Our options, given my limited children’s library, were, Greek Myths, or The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse.

The latter was obviously the more sound option. Naturally, that’s not the one we picked.

I was about halfway through the tale of Theseus—where the fourteen children are being sent off to the labyrinth via black-sailed ship to be sacrificed to the Minotaur—when it dawned on me:

I don’t think I should be reading them this.

I read on to Ariadne bribing Theseus to wed her when I smartly ended the story.

“Theseus and Ariadne defeated the Minotaur and lived happily ever after. The end.”

“Three, that’s it?” Car (8) asked.

“Mhmmm,” I said, sipping my wine.

“Also, Three, this wasn’t the best story. It was scary. The Minotaur was eating children,” he said, pointing to the illustration of the horned bull-man surrounded by bones.

“Well, that’s true. I—”

“Can I go to sleep now?” Nono interjected.

“I think that’s a fine idea,” I said.

“Wait Three, let me see the Minotaur again,” Nono said, looking at the page.

“No, Nono!” Carson shouted.

I shut the book. “Whelp. Time for a movie.”

“Prayers first, Three,” Carson reminded me.

“Oh right!” I bowed my head.

“I never do those,” Nono announced, visibly not participating.

I squinted and side-eyed him.

The wildest of Fridays.

Still.

It’s nice to have a moment to remember—

life can be so very precious.