He was sauteeing when I walked in the door. It is our new dance night routine. For better than an hour I can sit outside the gym with my laptop and attend virtual photography workshops while kids dance their hearts out. My husband gets home before us, turns on the oldies, and pulls out the Pioneer Woman cookbook.  That's where he was, moving steaming veggies from stove to set table, Tom Petty free-falling from the ipod dock in the background, when I paused in the doorway. 

The boys were in the courtyard outside where I had told them to sit for a minute.  From where I stood I could see them through the window looking deeply regretful, as I was, wishing we could will time backwards.   Just moments before we were crusing home, sunroof open.  We had prayed the rosary on the way, as we usually do on dance nights, knowing we get in late.  

As we pulled to a stop the rush to get out and in to Dad commenced with little people pressing against the doors and running to the house with backpacks dragging and sweaty faces grinning. Abbie Rose had begun to doze off during the last mile or two and woke up distressed to discover she was the last one out.  The Hello Kitty bag got all caught up on the carseat and tears flowed.  I came around her side and helped her out, then walked around the car to get my purse and laptop bag. Before I reached my side again all those little people were running back to the car, talking over each other.  Hurried explanations, many more tears. 

See, in an instant a poor calculation was made.  One boy had opened the laptop bag en route to see if the movie the boys were going to watch with Dad was downloaded. In his momentary euphoria he ran, laptop open, across the paved courtyard to the kitchen door.  There were technological casualties. (well, more like techo-disabilities)  In the abstract, you could say it's just stuff.  Truth be told, though, it was expensive stuff, expensive stuff that was recently purchased. 

So I stood watching his back bent over the buttered veggies and knew we just had to get this over with. The news was met with a GAHHHHHHHHH! No! And affirmation by me that yes, it really happened. Irreversibly.  He went outside to talk to the boys.  There were sighs and contrite nods. He sent the boys upstairs to clean up and stood there rubbing his forehead while he explained to me that we probably would not be repairing the damage since we have allocated funds other ways this coming year.  It is what it is.

Without words we exchanged one of those parent moments where you silently recall damage done over the years, silently replay other responses. 

In that instant he just turned, walked back to the kitchen, and  said, "Dinner's ready.  Come down and eat."    Soon after we were squeezed between blankets and kids on the couch.  We will be working through a cracked screen for a while, but the important things are intact. Machines break, hearts shouldn't.