Role Play Moment
“Hey Dad?” Twelve year old Sam's voice carried over the apartment, as Larry was in his closet trying to secure a box on the tallest shelf. He didn't want to call out to his son, in fear he would loose the balance he had going. One foot on a box, one on the wall. “Dad!” Larry grunted, giving the box in his arms another shove. “Dad!” Sam was right behind him then, and the nearness of his voice made Larry lurch. He fell down onto the closet floor, the box in his arms landing seconds after him on his chest.
“Pain,” was all he said. His legs were in the bedroom, his head mashed against the closet wall, and his neck twisted. Sam stood over him with crossed arms. “You rang?” Larry groaned.
“I can't find my book.”
Larry had no intentions of trying to stand in that moment. He closed his eyes. “Sam, your father has just fallen. Any thought to asking him if he's okay?”
Sam peered down at his dad. “You look fine to me.”
“Do I?” Larry opened his eyes and looked at his son.
“If you were older I'd be worried. You likely wouldn't be talking to me if you weren't okay.” Always the observer, Sam was right. His whole life he had always taken an understanding to people very well, and he never paused to explain what he saw.
“I am old.”
“I would hardly call 44 old.”
Larry smiled at his son. “I knew there was a reason I let you live here. A little help?”
Sam leaned down and pulled the box off of his father and helped him to his feet. “You should work on your landing.”
“You should work on running,” Larry commented. He jumped at Sam who shrilled with laughter and ran off. Larry chased him, not running at his full speed due to his aching bones. He caught Sam in Sam's bedroom and cornered him. Sam was squeezed into an empty corner of his barely unpacked room. His hands were out as protection and he laughed his head off.
“Dad! You wouldn't hurt your only son, would you?”
“You can be replaced,” Larry replied, grabbing Sam in his arms.
“Nooo! Put me down!”
“But you haven't said the magical word!” Larry hoisted Sam in the air. “You are now my prisoner! You will now know the pain of which you caused me!”
“I've got youth, what do you have?”
Larry stopped, as he walked out of the bedroom. “Age, dear boy, age!”
“Well I've got my good looks!”
“Good looks? Good looks?” Larry ran down the hall and took a crash landing onto the couch. “I will have you know your good looks came from me.”
Sam pulled from his fathers grasp and sat half on the couch, half on Larry. “Yea right.”
Larry gave Sam a look. “You are so disillusioned.”
Sam laughed and shook his head. The two sat reclaiming their breath, and Sam put his hand on Larry's arm. They both looked around their new home. “This apartment is a crap hole.”
“Hey,” Larry pulled him in a head lock. “That's no way to talk of your new home.”
“Sorry! It's great! Honest!” Larry laughed and eased up on the head lock, but kept his arm around his son. Sam went quiet in thought.
“This is going to work,” Larry assured both himself and Sam. “I'm going to make sure of it.”
“Yea.”
“And if it doesn't, you can drop out of school, I'll quit, and we'll join the circus.”
“Deal.”