Page 4 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
TWO
Jim
My favorite timeof day was when I was home with my family, and the busy chaos of my work faded to absolutely nothing. After being away for over a week, handling a deal overseas, and then flying to the England office for a few days, I arrived home late yesterday afternoon intending to give my family the attention they deserved.
Hell, I just fucking missed all three of my best girls. Being able to pick up Addy and Izzy from school was enough to breathe life into me again. My family grounded me and kept me sane in an insane world that seemed to pull me in every directionbutthem these days.
Dinner was fantastic. Everyone was trading stories from their day at school, and I even got in a few fun jabs myself about work. Avery seemed a little more troubled by her day, though, so when she stepped away to take a call from a woman she’d met earlier, the girls and I finished up the dishes. I figured I’d askmore about her day once she was done and before I had to wrap up a few last-minute work emails.
It wasn’t a typical family night here, but not unusual either. Avery’s women’s center demanded her attention just as my company demanded mine. And, of course, being in grade school and high school came with its own demands via hours of homework for the girls.
The best part of this family dynamic was how we weaved our way through these obstacles and were always present for each other, especially at dinner when we revealed our funny stories from the day.
“I’ll do the dishes for a week if you finish that math problem,” I told Addy, stepping into her downstairs office, seeing that she was bent over her desk in frustration.
“Really?” She looked over at me and beamed.
“Of course not,” I answered deadpan. “But I’llsayI will.”
I crossed the room, seeing defeat written all over her stressed-out face.
“Dad, I can’t get this at all. It makes no sense, and the teacher won’t explain it right for those of us who are too dumb to understand math.”
I half-smiled, then examined the Algebra question she was stuck on. “Before I help you,” I said, popping her AirPods out of both her ears, “these have got to go. Listening to this nonsense is taking up more brain power than necessary.”
“It helps me concentrate,” she countered.
I glanced at her phone. “Taylor Swift helps you concentrate on break-ups and young love. Romance should be the furthest thing from your mind while focusing on your studies.”
“Oh, God,” she sat back in her chair, flustered. “It’s not like that. Her beats keep me motivated.”
“Motivated to stay on the same math problem since I started cooking dinner over two hours ago, kiddo?” I asked.
She stared at me like I was the most annoying person on the damn planet, and I couldn’t resist smirking at her. Oh, the frustrations of being a teenager and navigating schoolwork in a world where no one truly understandsreal-lifeproblems.
“So, now I can’t listen to?—”
“First, I want you to listen to me,” I interrupted her, ending the endless cycle of drama this was about to spiral into if I let it. I knelt to get closer to where she sat at her desk. “Nobody, especiallyyou, is too dumb to do math,” I smiled at her.
“This coming from a man who is a master at the subject?” she said.
“Yes, precisely. Math is a game, sweetheart, not a challenge. In fact, it can be a fun riddle to solve if you learn it in a way that engages your brain and interests.”
She smiled. “We both know it’s you and Izzy who love math, games, puzzles, and riddles. Mom and I just love?—”
“To get speeding tickets flying down the highway, I know,” I arched an eyebrow.
“Hey, that officer didn’t give me a ticket today,” she shot back.
“That’s only because he would’ve rather punished me for letting you speed through a twenty-five-mile-an-hour zone.” I paused, then shifted gears. “Let’s back up. I really want to help you see this as fun instead of a challenge. Trust me, once I’m through with you, Algebra will be your favorite subject.”
“Algebra is evil.”
“What’s the problem?” I ignored the dramatics.
“3x – 4 = 11.It makes no sense.”
I grabbed her pencil. “Okay, let’s make it easy. Let’s pretend this is a Taylor Swift concert.”
