The Escape Route

by Hero Jenkins

My wife was an athlete, and most athletes talk a lot of “SMACK”. I guess today “talking SMACK” is known as “trash talk”, but “SMACK” is what we called it back then.

Besides bestowing upon her the gift of trash talking, God also saw fit to arm her with two of the sharpest elbows I have ever seen or felt.

I'm not sure when it happened but at some point in this marriage she became emboldened. Armed with those freakishly sharp elbows she seemed to feel that she could get away with talking smack without there being any repercussions.

So that is the background or rather the foundation of what I am about to share with you. Because I told you all of that to tell you this. 

My sons read my last “letter to myself” when I talked about them slipping into bed on Saturday mornings and reminded me of something I had forgotten about. One of them said: “I don’t quite remember it the way you described it.”

With barely disguised laughter in his voice he reminded me that they didn’t always slip into the bed and cuddle. There was a time, when they were a little older, they responded to rescue their mom who was being tickled mercilessly as punishment for talking too much smack.

I’m guessing they were about nine and seven at the time. All my wife had to do was scream for help and she would have two evil munchkins coming to her rescue. It always started the same way, with her mouth writing a check that her butt couldn’t cash. She would make some smartass remark and I would tickle her. She would try to use those sharp elbows but I was too quick for her. Then she would scream for back-up and the moment she did they would come running into our room, leap onto the bed and go all WWE on me. 

Unfortunately for them, they were too little to win the battle outright because I could stack them and tickle them both with one hand while continuing to tickle their mom with the other. They would scream, but there was no one left to help them.

After repeatedly losing, those two evil munchkins changed tactics on me. They adopted a hit and run approach and more importantly they devised a diabolical plan to use my own house against me.

They called it “The Escape Route”.

There was a narrow hallway connecting the master bedroom to the rest of the house. On one side of the hallway was a storage area. There was a cabinet on the bottom with doors that opened low and then a wall mounted linen closet on top with doors that opened high. Their plan was to open the upper cabinet doors and leave the bottom cabinet doors shut. That meant that if they could make it to the darkened hallway they, being munchkins, could run beneath the open upper doors while any pursuer that was not a munchkin, namely me, would collide with them.

Diabolical... Right? Well I'm here to tell you that the plan worked.

One Saturday morning they set up their escape route and waited. I’m not sure if my wife was in on it... she swears she was not. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that she was talking extra trash that day. And when she got in over her head she called for back-up and they responded.

They attacked and then they retreated and I responded with pursuit. My man-sized body at that speed could not negotiate that sharp turn to that narrow hallway as well as their nimble munchkin bodies could. As usual I bumped into that first wall that was just after that first turn. As usual I could hear them laughing as they extended their lead and made their escape. 

Though they had a slight lead, this chase was far from over. While it was true they had the advantage in this narrow hallway, once we got out of this hallway, I knew I could take two steps to their eight. I would close the gap and catch up to them on the straight away through the family room as they tried to escape to their bedrooms.

I didn’t know about the escape route and when I made that first turn in that hallway, after I bumped into that first wall…

“BLAM!”

I slammed into that first cabinet door and stumbled backward. That door had caught me completely by surprise. More importantly it had completely stopped my momentum. My attention was focused downward as I closed the cabinet door and caught a glimpse of a tiny little body disappearing around the corner… OK they had pulled farther ahead, but I could still make up ground and I could still catch them.

Just as I got going again...

"BLAM!" 

I slammed into the second cabinet door and the chase was over. For the first time, they had won.

At first I was angry, I could have been hurt. And I had to explain it to them. I mean what’s next… banana peels, glass or tacks... perhaps marbles? I’ve seen the “Home Alone” movies, I know how this ends. But on another level I had to admit that I was impressed with the sheer diabolical thinking that goes into setting up an escape route.

Now that they are grown they still take their mother’s side but they are much taller now and can no longer get away by using the escape route. And now that they have reminded me I am busy plotting my revenge because someday they will have kids and grandpa is going to teach his grandkids how to set up escape routes of their own.

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