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Cozy Upstairs Corner Office

Eri got me chocolate for Valentine’s Day, like she always does, because she’s sweet like that. I had some during my morning meeting, sipping from my fresh thermos of coffee, which I pour a little at a time into my glass mug, expecting that perfect balance of bitter and sweet. But the chocolate was Earl Grey flavored, and I have to say… it didn’t really pair well with coffee the way I like. I ain't no choco-snob, but I’ll take a good dark chocolate over a fancy tea-infused one any day. Still, it was good because it had Eri's love in it.

Speaking of things that didn’t quite go how I’d like... my Friday management meeting. It dragged on and on... one of those calls where some parts matter, but a whole lot of it just feels like background noise. This is where working from home is such a blessing. Sure, I have to stay engaged, but at least I can sip my coffee in my cozy upstairs corner office, occasionally zone out and check the news, or better yet The Onion, and fire off some memes to my team in hopes of improving their day. If I have to suffer, I might as well spread some humor around.

Meanwhile, Kenzo had an open house at school today. Eri went, but with a mission: avoid the PTA folks. Around here, there's a ton of pressure on parents to join, and I’m really proud of her for saying no. I think the PTA does good work, and if I had the time to commit, I’d probably join. But no parent should feel forced into it. The ones who want to be there should be there. The ones juggling a million things already should be able to support in other ways, like making sure their kid actually makes it to school in the morning.

It was super windy again today. Bitterly cold too. I picked up Kenzo at the bus stop at 18:20, and he hopped into the front seat. As always, I asked him how Friends Club was. Usually, he says “fun,” but today was one of those days where something happened. He told me some of the boys were being too crazy during dodgeball before English class, and it made him sad. So sad that he cried. But then he told me that Mr. Phillip, one of the veteran teachers there and a guy I've known for about ten years, noticed what happened. Mr. Phillip pulled him aside and told him a story about when he was eight years old.

Kenzo recounted the story to me as we drove home. Apparently, when Mr. Phillip was little, he didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “Kind of like someone I know,” I commented.

Kenzo shot me a look. “Be quiet, I’m telling a story.” 

So, Mr. Phillip’s mom started giving him double vegetables at dinner. But being a clever kid, he figured he could game the system. He told his mom he no longer wanted to eat ice cream, thinking that if he got double broccoli for saying he didn’t like it, he’d get double Rocky Road in the same way.

Kenzo relished telling me the end of the story. Apparently, Mr. Phillip’s mom just said, “Oh, well, if you don’t like ice cream, then I won’t buy it anymore.”

I was like, “Whaaaaaat! Mr. Phillip tried to trick his mother?”

Kenzo snickered. “Yeah, but his mom was too smart for that.”

At dinner, Kenzo stared at his bowl of vegetable soup, then looked at me and gave me a knowing look.

At bedtime, he cried a little and declared, “I had a horrible day papa.”

I hugged him and said, “I know.” Because sometimes, he just wants to be heard. It’s not always necessary to tell him he’s wrong.

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