He couldn't concentrate. He had the file up on the screen but it was useless. The youngest was crumpled into a puddle at his foot shrieking and crying about the latest injustice done to her. And she had banged her knee. And she didn't want grilled cheese for lunch.

And she didn't like having curly hair. The older two were behind him arguing on the bed about where snowflakes came from. His son was certain it was an ice machine while his daughter insisted it was a giant fan. Both were wrong. Both were annoying. Both were starting to whine about the other.


He had to get this report done. The deadline was tomorrow. His manager had been more than understanding about the situation. He had been able to move to home and work...but he still had to work. He had spent the last three nights on this after finally getting all three kids into bed. However, new research showed up in his email this morning, and he had to edit an entire section.  He had tried calling in some help. All those well meaning people who had come up to him at the funeral. But it seems some time had cooled their charity. Maybe Bill and Cathy had gotten the word out about what a disaster his house was or how wild the kids were from the time they babysat.  His mom had flown back to California three weeks ago and he was lost. He had never really been close to her but she really had been helpful.


He couldn't stay calm any longer," Will you kids shut up! I have got to work. I gave you juice and you have a movie playing downstairs. And I got out that new game for you to play. Go in the living room and leave me alone!" There was silence and all their little pairs of eyes looked up at him. They stood motionless for a few seconds. "Go now!!!!!" he shouted. They ran from the room. His eldest girl was sniffling but he just couldn't deal with it.


Now with the room empty he looked at the screen. He pushed his chair back, leaned his head down on the desk, and stared at the floor. Damn you, Sandra. She had left him. She had left the kids. She had died. He felt it cutting him...deep. Damn himself more like it. Damn himself for all the times she was beautiful and he didn't tell her. She was always beautiful though. Damn himself for not opening the door more for her. Damn himself for not saying thank you to her every time she found his keys. Damn himself for not pausing in the morning before work to notice her sleeping. For not making her favorite french toast.  For not watching the old movie reruns on Sunday night with her. For not taking her to Brazil because she had always wanted to go. For not stopping her from driving to the store in the rain that day...

He watched the tears drop slowly to the floor. His thoughts were shattered by the screams of his son. He got up and ran out into the living room to find all three in various stages of jumping off the furniture. They all stopped abruptly and stood there. The youngest braved the silence,"We were  pwaying  supahetoes and flying." Her eyes were large and she clutched a rather disheveled doll. He looked at them. God, they looked like her! He couldn't help but see her in everyone of them. He smiled.


"Well, superheroes probably get hungry saving the world. Its almost time for dinner. Who wants french toast?" he said. He was met with several giggles and bouncing heads."Well, come one, everyone in the kitchen so you all can help or shall we fly?" He stretched out his arms and made a swishing sound. The three little ones fell in line and soon they were swirling down the hallway to the kitchen. The report would get done later.