More than a couple of people predicted as much. It wasn’t as easy to put the Parent Imperfect to sleep as we had originally predicted. We’d like to say that our inbox lit up with thousands of people outraged by the decision to leave the PI to his own devices, but the fact is that we kept seeing some little detail of the PI’s vida cotidiana that would be fun to write about. And so it is that, in defiance of popular demand, the PI is to be resuscitated, at least for a time. For those of you who filled the air with a huge sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be bothering you about this any more, TOO BAD!
Some who did write in response to the closing (almost all busy parents, themselves) suggested that shorter, more frequent posts might be easier to follow. OK.
On the evening of the third or fourth day of school, both the PI and Connie were waiting for the bathroom when an unfamiliar mechanical sound came from the other side of the door. It took the PI a moment to realize that this was the portable electric shaver that he never uses. Not able to resist the moment, the PI cracked open the door, risking a sharp response from his son. There stood the young man, his face covered with the PI’s newly purchased fancy shave cream, clearing facial hair that only he could perceive.
“CLOSE THAT DOOR!!! I’m in here.”
“Hey, you don’t use that cream with the electric razor. You’ll either electrocute yourself, or ruin the shaver.”
“Oh,” he said, reacting with uncommon velocity and hiding the shaver, “I knew that. This stuff says it cleans your face, too, so I thought I’d try it. It smells really good.”
“Since when do you need to turn on that black thing to wash your face.”
“Close the door, Dad! And get her away from here. I want some privacy!” And he pushed the door shut with a violence that would have crushed fingers had his sister not already learned that lesson several times.
“He was shaving, Daddy, Wasn’t he?”
“Si, niña, se estaba afeitando…sin duda. No sé porque, pero se estaba afeitando.