Peter poured himself his second mug of coffee for the morning, feeling like he really needed something a hell of a lot stronger than a standard cup of caffeine to see him through the day. He'd stayed up late, preparing for his first ever inter-district departmental heads counterfeit presentation, for which he had the distinct pleasure of being nominated chairperson. In other words, he was in charge of the conference program as well as being responsible for making sure everyone was heard within the limited time they'd allocated. It was important that the small gathering of senior officials from Philly and Washington ran smoothly, particularly with being the new kid on the senior agent block, all eyes would be scrutinizing his every move. He'd stayed up late making sure all the file folders for the presentation were in order, all his notes were fool proof and everything else had every 't' crossed and every 'i' dotted.
Sipping his coffee the seasoned agent felt confident, as prepared as he could be. In fact, he had a little bit of time up his sleeve so when he saw the family 'pet' scoot into the kitchen looking possibly even worse than the night before, he made an on the spot decision to take him out back and wash some of the color out of his hair before it stained permanently or possibly before the neighbors caught sight of him over the fence and reported the Burkes for animal cruelty. Peter downed the last mouthful of his 'not even close to what he needed' coffee, scooped up Satch and headed outside.
Ten minutes and half of bottle of shampoo later, the poor puppy didn't look any better, in actuality, it was possible he looked worse off than he did before Peter began to wash him. It may have been that the warm soapy liquid dispersed the permanent fluorescent green and pink ink over more of Satchmo's body. Peter huffed in frustration thinking how he was going to confiscate every drawing implement in the house as soon as he got home from work. Of course he knew he would never do that but the mere thought helped him work through the dissatisfaction of wasting his time when there were so many other things that needed attention. With a final sigh, he released the puppy into the yard and wandered back to the house. As he opened the door, El was walking towards him, looking way too dressed up for someone intending on spend the morning baking cookies and moping bathroom tiles. "El? You going somewhere?"
El laughed, "No Peter, I thought I'd doll myself up to cook you an omelet before I took the boys to the park." She smiled, waiting for her husband to catch up with her sarcasm.
Peter frowned, trying frantically to remember something he knew he was supposed to. "Uh, you going out hon?"
"Yes, you goose." El swatted him playfully across his shoulder. "I have that meeting this morning remember? You know the one I've been trying to organize for months?"
Peter's only response was to stare blankly at his wife.
El gave in and recalled the full story. "Peter, last week, I was finally able to arrange a meeting with the Performing Arts of Brooklyn Centre manager. You know my dream client that's going to rocket Burke Premier Events from a barely hanging in there backyard business to a reputable thriving company."
"Ahhhh… of course." Peter had heard the spiel. In fact he knew all about it. El had been so excited to even just secure an interview with the manager. What he had no recollection of was the date of the interview…. "So that meeting's this morning?"
"Yes Peter, remember, I told you last week because it meant you'd have to take the morning off work to watch the boys. You said it wouldn't be a problem." El looked at her watch. "Anyway hon, I have to kiss and run." El pecked Peter on the cheek. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck hon. Don't worry about a thing. You'll do just find, you won't need any luck," I'm going to need it all for myself!
Peter felt a sinking sensation wash over his body as he watched in disbelief, his wife grabbing her bag and heading out the front door. Stepping into the dining area with a sensation swirling in his head that was a cross between a drug induced trance and a full blown anxiety attack, he made a bee line for his computer, loaded up Google and frantically typed in "Babysitters!"
M-O-P-P-E-T-S
Who had he been kidding? Organizing a babysitter at such short notice wasn't like ringing up and ordering a pizza - what had he been thinking, really! Truthfully, he had thought it would be as simple as placing a call, but boy was that a huge misconception! From the half dozen phone calls he'd made within the past fifteen minutes, he'd come up empty handed. Some of the agencies were fully booked, some required forms to be filled out and faxed in before they would even entertain the idea of sending a sitter over and a couple of the independent sitters that were available, didn't sound particularly professional. Not that he should be worried with Mozzie lurking around. The boy wouldn't tolerate inappropriate behavior from a guest in the house and all hell would rain down on the unsuspecting sitter if she were to treat Neal in any way that Mozzie deemed inappropriate. Plus, the kid would watch over the house like a hawk with an unknown and unvetted individual roaming the halls. But despite all that, El wouldn't be happy; all told she'd be positively furious that Peter would even consider leaving the children with a total stranger!
Ditching the babysitter idea while cursing Rachel Hammond, the one person who could have come to his rescue, for choosing this particular week to take a well-deserved break cruising the Bahamas, Peter bolted up the stairs to shake two sleeping moppets from their slumber.
""Mozzie, Neal, wake up!" Peter gently shook each boy in turn and when that didn't work, took a step into the 'heartless but desperate' department and pulled back their blankets, allowing the warm air to escape and the cool morning frost to seep into their cozy cocoons.
"Peeeeeter," Mozzie whined while reaching for his glasses. "What the h..." He was about to say hell but stopped himself at the last second while remembering that a painful swat across his backside would surely follow that particular word if it were to escape his mouth - and that wouldn't be a particularly pleasant way to start the day! He tried again as he put his feet on the floor and stretched his arms, "What's going on, Peter?"
"I have to take you boys in to work with me this morning," Peter spoke as he lifted Neal into a sitting position and began to undress the youngster. "I'm going to jump in the shower. While I'm getting ready, I want you two to get dressed and pack a couple of toys and books that will keep you entertained for a few hours, into your school backpacks."
"Dadda, I hungwy. Cam oo make me a chocwate miwk wake?" Neal had begun to rouse, catching on quickly to what was happening.
"We'll get breakfast on the way, okay fellas?" Peter started to panic thinking that having two little boys along for the ride was going to slow up his schedule. He'd have to leave earlier than anticipated if he was going to feed the boys and settle them in his office before setting up the presentation.
It was his quickest shower on record - the 'watch every drop' water conservationists would have been proud! Pulling on his suit, he ran a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth in record time. Fighting the anxiety building throughout his body, Peter yelled out to Mozzie and Neal to meet him downstairs as he headed into the kitchen to grab a couple of snack bars, knowing he wouldn't get a chance to take the boys out for a morning snack – a couple of processed fruit bars would have to be a sorry alternative.
Taking one final look around the kitchen and accepting that anything else the boys desperately needed could surely be scrounged up at the office; Peter grabbed a rather large box that possessed all the file folders and notes for his presentation, off the dining table and made for the front door.
"Mozzie! Neal! Let's Go! I'm waiting!" Peter shouted up the stairs but got no response. Feeling his blood pressure rising, he was about to shout again when he felt a tug on his pants. He looked down rather awkwardly over the side of the box into the eyes of his youngest child, "Neal, where's your brother?"
"Moz aweady in da cawr, dadda."
"Oh…Okay." Peter took a deep breath. "You got everything you need bud?"
"Yeah dadda." The little boy patted his backpack.
"Okay, let's go." The agent hurried down the stairs with his littlest moppet trailing behind. He shoved the bulky packaging box onto the front passenger seat and glanced back quickly to check that the boys were secured in their seatbelts before jumping into the driver's seat and pulling out into the peak hour traffic. Had he stopped a moment to take a little more notice of what the boys had brought along to 'keep themselves entertained,' his day would have most certainly turned out for the better. Later that night when he would hop into bed, his wife would remind him of the age old saying that a stitch in time saves nine. It would have been good advice, had it not been several hours too late because Agent Peter Burke was about to watch his day unravel at the seams, stitch by stitch by stich!