I’m a lucky guy. I get to work from home. But the situation is complicated by the fact of my children, who also live at home. Two of the three children go to school five days a week, but the third…?

He also “works” from home each Wednesday and Friday.

For the most part, he is diligent, but his job is dull. It does not provide sufficient stimulation for his budding brain. And so he thinks of other ways to spend his time. 

I cannot blame him for striving to keep the workplace lively.

I just wish he’d get his own office.

Just when he knows I’m about to pull out the pink slip, he settles into the posture of ultimate redemption.

The backwards hug—the gentle squeeze around the neck, that rarest of workplace encounters—has a way of erasing any offense, rendering it nothing but the preamble to the best part of my day.