For nearly 33 hours I was home alone. On Sunday morning, the kids and the mom loaded up the suburban assault vehicle and took off for the Ozarks for a few days of spring break. For 33 hours, my shoes waited front-and-center in the living room, toilet seats remained in the locked and upright position, newspapers and New Yorkers were strewn where I might conveniently find them, and phones sometimes went unanswered while I stayed behind to defend the homestead and finish out the class that bridges the break.

The rest of the family had headed down to Springfield, MO, their first destination being the Bass Pro Shop there, which turned out to be almost directly across the street from their motel. There were toys galore for the boys, but because their expenditures were strictly controlled by Treasurer Mom, I must believe that the trouble (whatever it was) would have erupted later.

Taylor bought the snappy head lamp that I model in the picture, Owen chose a turkey call and a crow call (which made the night in the motel and the drive back home fun, I bet) and Josh picked up some tackle and drooled over the pricier toys that require an eight-cylinder, 3/4-ton pickup to haul home. The mom bought herself a T-shirt, and I received a ballcap, thanks to the kids' largesse.

I haven't heard the tale of what went wrong -- hard feelings can run deep during a family vacation when the fun leaves dysfunction -- and I suspect I shouldn't investigate too closely. But I imagine words were exchanged, people couldn't keep their hands to themselves, an ultimatum was delivered, and when a bluff that wasn't a bluff was called, the suburban assault vehicle was routed north toward home.

So while the oldest reintegrated himself into his local cliques, the younger boys regaled me with tales of the motel -- the free bars of soap, the hot tub and pool, the cheerio and corn flake dispensers at the motel breakfast bar, and the reflective shower cap that makes them look like walking jiffypop from pre-microwave days -- all free, Dad!!

The mother has disappeared, along with fifty gallons of hot water and a bottle of ibuprofen.

I've got to get these kids out more, that's all there is to it.

Maybe I could find another place for those shoes, too.