Dancing Queen

“Dad, come on and dance!”

I disappeared for a bit. On this page, at least. I had to. Lots of work, a few social engagements, doctors, therapists, school meetings. Then doctors, therapists and school meetings all over again. And then the ER. My six-year-old son hobbled in from a soccer match at a friend’s house with an injured foot. We went to the emergency. The doctor said he was a lucky boy. It was only a bruise. My son frowned. He wasn’t going to let that report get in his way. He didn’t. He’s still limping a week later and lapping up all the attention.

Parenting gets busy.

And my work gets busy too. Deadlines to meet, assignments to begin, interviews to do and contacts to take out for coffee. I have a good life as a reporter. Every day is different. I write about a film, an oil strike, an executive on the move, and then do an analysis of the entertainment industry or the presidential race, and then write about a TV drama. And then a real economic drama.

Whip in parenting and my life can get overwhelming.

The solution? Work hours and call it quits for lunch and at the end of the day so that I can hang out with my three children and my wife. That’s better than anything I’ll ever write.

It’s not easy. I work from home. It’s tempting to return to the computer.

I should take advice from my youngest daughter on how to be sensible in knowing when to do something – and how. We were at the gas station filling up the car and I had my door open as we watched the pump.

“It’s cold,” I said.

“Then shut the door,” the three-year-old said.

Yep, it’s as simple as that. Just turn off the computer and focus on what’s more important. Indeed, my wife and kids are cutting up the parquet floor to “Dancing Queen” as I write this sentence. So without further typing, I am off to show them my moves…

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