It was utopia. That one magical night per week where we didn’t have any sports practices or academic obligations to keep us from getting home right after school. We had a nice family dinner, and then the kids worked on finishing up their homework. It seemed early, but selfishly I was ready to send them up for a shower and bed thinking I might actually catch a little of my favorite TV show and get in some extra relaxation time. My suggestion of starting the bedtime routine was met with defiant protests and all three kids darted down to the basement, cranked up the music and started running laps. So much for settling down for bed. With the floor below us vibrating from the music, Maverick and I decided to head downstairs and check out the party. My feet had barely touched the basement floor when I was pelted with a green playground ball just below my right earlobe. I quickly grabbed the ball and fired back at Rocky as he raced around the corner. We all unanimously agreed that Dad would be “It” in our spontaneous game of ball tag and ran for cover. Like Olympic athletes, we dove, lurched and hurdled out of the way to avoid being tagged by one of Maverick’s precision throws. Finally, the game came to an end and when I announced it was time for a shower, miraculously, there were no complaints. After tucking everyone in and kissing them goodnight, I felt happy, reconnected and calm. That night, the kids showed me that sometimes relaxation doesn’t always show up in the form of a favorite TV show or self-time, rather it may just pelt you beside the head.