What it’s Like

The original purpose of the blog is to give Elijah and Luca a view into what it was like growing up. As we are quarantined with Covid-19, I’ve been wondering, what will they remember? How will they feel about this, the most surreal time of their lives?

At the risk of eliminating any last bit of comedy from the blog, I’m going to attempt to paint an accurate picture so they have some idea of what it was like in March of 2020.

Here goes:

Hello future Eli and Luca! I hope you achieved your goals of becoming a sea animal helper and an NFL kicker. 

Right now, I am writing to you from the dining room. Where I have been stuck for 48 hours. You both have overheard some of the most boring conference calls in the world, where I’ve been debating whether or not we can air a commercial that features someone in an office (no one is in offices) or kids at school (no one is at school). There is an untouched puzzle on the table, a Viking hat I use for video conferences and a running list of Eli’s suggestions to help my clients’ business. “So, you know how goldfish made a sweet version of goldfish (grahams) I think you should do the opposite and make sweet (client name redacted) like a pretzel outside and a cheddar inside.” I’ve only yelled at you both twice for screaming during a conference call.

You both are bored. Very bored. Luca, you race to finish your schoolwork morning so you can play basketball/football with your posse. Technically it’s against the rules, but we’ve been lenient with kid social distancing. That’s what we call it. Social distancing. 

Eli, you take a little longer to get your work done. Mostly because you’ve been sneaking your phone in your room and split time between work and episodes of “Boss Baby.” I’m not sure I would choose that show to ride out the apocalypse, but to each their own. You haven’t spent much time with other kids because of “Boss Baby.”

Your mom is now manning the wine store solo. She sent her employees home for their own safety. But people want their wine. It’s kind of an odd move for Diana because she is panicking most of all about the virus. We aren’t allowed to touch anything before we have to “scrub in.” She has mandated no play dates (except outside sports) and won’t even allow your dear old dad to go drink at his friend John’s house. 

Things are eerily quiet. Mostly because we don’t leave the house. We don’t watch TV because it’s all the same heads talking about the virus. It feels like we are in the first 10 minutes of a zombie movie. Everyone is telling the same jokes online. 

Speaking of jokes, the bunker you made in the basement as a father’s day gag is now stocked with cans and water and a huge knife. We assume we’ll never use them. 

But you both are your usual goofy, hilarious selves. The fact the disease doesn’t really affect kids is a huge relief, but it’s still scary to see the world melt down like this. 

I love you guys. This will be fun to remember when it’s all over.