“Let me show you why I don’t work from home that much,” I said to Kent, turning my monitor toward him and pulling up the picture you see here. For the uninitiated, this is a picture taken last night of The Boy wearing what I have been informed is a Dogon Mask, the Dogon being a tribal group indigenous to central Mali. I do not believe that the actual Dogon people make their masks out of Peanut Butter Crunch boxes, but as The Boy is indigenous to the Forest Hill area, we do have a lot of naturally occurring grocery stores, and cereal boxes are a readily available natural resource, so that is what he used.

I informed Kent that last night, after creating the mask, it became extremely important to The Boy that we play some traditional Dogon music to celebrate the new attire. So, for a large and unrecoverable chunk of the evening, we all sat in a row on a yoga mat in the middle of the kitchen floor. No, I don’t know why we were in the kitchen; that’s just where he summoned us for the recital. I was instructed to shake a Tupperware bowl full of Legos. Tad was given a plastic jack-o'-lantern trick-or-treat bucket, which he was instructed to beat on with two spoons. The Boy himself very solemnly slapped a bass made from a mouthwash bottle and a paper-towel tube. His was the central position in the Dogon ensemble, of course, and he served in a dual role as bassist and conductor.

So anyway. What’s that you were saying about working from home?