Mike lives in North Florida with his wife, two children, two dogs and a cat missing a piece of her ear named Sadie Mae. He is a 30-something guy trying to balance family, work, gardening, travel and his love of food. When the kids are asleep and the house is quiet he writes two blogs, Black Coffee & Bourbon chronicles the daily circus that is his life, and Sweet Tea & Bourbon which documents his foodie adventures.
Mason loves to play cars. He sits on the floor propped up on one hand and races them. One car moves forward, then he moves another to catch up, and then another. The caravan of match cars slowly makes its way around the couch, through the dining room and into his bedroom. I usually find out where the race ended when I inadvertently step on one of the cars in the dark.
This evening Mason was holding his nightly race when he looked up at me. “Daddy, you be my talkie raider, okay?” he said. I had no idea what a talkie raider was, and returned his request with a puzzled look. “Sit down daddy and talk!” he said as he rolled a green car back and forth. I obliged and started announcing the race. I gave all the cars drivers from his school. As he moved the cars around I gave a narrative of the action. “Mason leads the race as they enter turn one. Graham is closing and passes TJ for second. Aubrey is in fourth while Case Corey tries to recover from an earlier tire issue back in the fifth spot.” He loved it.
As the race progressed cars began to drop out. “Oh no! A crash daddy!” Mason said as he spun a car under the sofa table. Slowly the field was whittled down to two. As the cars pushed towards the finish line he beamed. “Mason wins again!” he squealed as the green car edged out the blue one. He gave me a hug and walked off towards the kitchen. I sat there smiling, happy I’d gotten another job to add to my resume.