Quartet

Day 4: Your Parents

Madre and Padre.

My parents are two of the most amazing people. They are determined, persistent, loving and caring, highly successful, and completely devoted to the four of us Keeler boys.

Not that we actually deserve it all of the time, but they manage to put up with us somehow.

My mom and dad work together- my dad runs his own business, and my mom is his accountant. Arguably, they are the two most successful small businessmen (/woman) in the country- while most of the time the news is shouting about how the recession is (or was? I can't remember if it's supposedly over yet) crushing the hopes of people trying to start their own companies, my dad basically shrugged and told me that "We didn't even notice the recession happened."

Pilot Design Group. It's basically a graphic designers guild (for lack of a better word), run by my dad and his business associate. Chances are if you use anything produced by Gillette, my dad designed it.

I'm currently trying to figure out whether or not the dog my parents bought recently is a replacement for me, however.

Basically, the time came for me to come here to Asbury. Andrew was already out of the house, and soon kid levels in the Keeler house would be down to half- meaning much more quiet.

And since I would be gone, much less chalk dust. Which gets everywhere.

But the point is that the atmosphere in our residence was taking a turn for the boring. Apparently (as I later found out) something needed to be done.

In addition, my mom had always wanted to have a dog. She had enlisted the help of us kids in constantly harassing our dad on the issue. He insisted that since we left clothes on the floors of our rooms, we were therefore incapable of taking care of a dog.

An argument that, while still totally beyond me, proved ineffective once I left. Within a couple of weeks of my departure, Brady had become a member of the family.

I guess the happily ever after is that my dad hates dogs less now, and has so far managed to coexist with our puppy without putting his boot through its head. He threatens to from time to time, but never gets around to it.