The other day, as I was up in my office struggling with an uncooperative database, I heard my youngest son and his momma return from school.

Their arrival is never quiet.

As soon as they hear the car arrive, both dogs run downstairs barking and wagging. A few minutes later – just as the dogs frenzy is reaching a crescendo – the little guy bangs the door open. The dogs rush him, in a crazed confused bid to both greet him and escape out the door. He shouts “no, no, no” and tries to block them, crouching low like an NFL lineman. The next several minutes are filled with the sounds of two 80lb black labs trying to wrestle past one 35lb (but determined) four year old.

At least, that’s what usually happens.

The other day, he apparently stepped aside to let them run past. I heard his momma shout from outside. “Aaahh!  The dogs! The dogs are loose! No! Sophie, Gus, get back here! Come back!”

Curious as to the change, I poked my head around and peeked down the stairs.

The little guy was leaning against the wall.

His momma walked in, dragging the labs by their collars.

As she kicked the door closed, the little guy dropped his backpack on the floor. “You know what Momma? I just want to stretch out on that couch and take a nap. That’s all. Just stretch out and take a nap.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the couch.

If ever I heard a call to action, that was it. I ran back to the computer, saved my work, and then swooped down the stairs to claim the other couch.

Hey, when your son needs you, what else can you do?