Member-only story
WHAT KIDS NEED
I’ll Never Forget Living in ‘The Cave’ — My Basement Divorce Dwelling
The benefits of living in a small space
Small Living — Big Love
I stir a simmering soup and watch my five-year-old drill a hole in an agate he found. He tells me it’ll be a necklace. Safety glasses protect him from the spray created by the tiny diamond bit on the end of a Dremel tool.
My daughter peeks over the top of her loft and asks, “How long until dinner, Daddy?
I can hear the plastic grinding from her standing in Legos. I rip off my shirt, and boom, “Five minutes ‘till dinner! Plenty of time to kick your butts! In this corner, weighing in at 155 pounds, Daddy-The Animal-Chin!”
I take the center of The Cave, our basement digs, like a champion fighter claiming the middle of a boxing ring. Jaxen rips off his shirt and safety glasses and charges at me. I scoop him up and body-slam him. The double-padded carpet absorbs the impact and his giggles. Our skin-to-skin contact gives us a jolt of connection and love.
Rayden steps to the edge of her loft and launches herself at me like a WWE wrestler flying off the top rope. I catch her and slam her to the ground next to Jaxen.
They’re up in an instant on the attack, and I collapse in a controlled roll to the floor. I huff and puff as though I’m building energy like a shaken bottle of soda. Their laughter increases and peaks as I erupt off the carpet, shedding them off my body and grabbing a long foam block to whack them with. They take up arms with their foam weapons.
A foam club swung at high speeds has a satisfying effect on small kids. I take out Jaxen’s legs, and he hits with a thud. There’s no stopping them, and I surrender into a fetal position, allowing them to club me into submission.
“Alright! You win! Dinner time!” I say, getting up and giving them bear hugs.
