If you’ve been following me on social media for awhile, you’ll have noticed that I occasionally post little short stories for my kids in a series I’ve titled The Chronicles of the Dei Clan Warriors. I’ve decided to compile them here for the sake of convenience. There’s no underlying, thought-out-in-advance master plot here, or hours upon hours of careful editing, it’s just my brain to the keyboard as the stories come. Wondering how things are going to turn out for the Dei Clan? Me too! I’m following along same as you. Hope you enjoy!
Happy New Year! Procrastinator that I am, I'm sharing a post I never finished last year. However, it does also serve as an excellent point of reflection over one of our greatest family adventures of 2018... This past June I went on the longest road trip of my life—with my wife, a four-year-old, a three-year-old, a two-year-old, and a one-month-old. We had one reserved destination ~1,800 miles away and zero plans on how to get there. It was National Lampoon’s Vacation minus Wally World and the bb-gun hostage taking.
To backtrack a little, I should explain that this all began when my wife and I sat down to write out some New Year’s goals in 2017 and decided we should write out a “bucket list”. And so, we did—scribbling some prayerful thoughts on a napkin one evening at a noisy restaurant while a baby sitter watched the kids at home. Many line items spewed forth, one of which: the goal to see all the National Parks in the United States.
So, come this past May when we were blessed with our fourth child, Amelie, and a newly implemented eight week paternity leave plan at work, we asked ourselves: what’s one of the furthest parks we could see?
We landed at Acadia National Park in Maine, which is about a 27-hour drive from our home in Louisiana.
Abbott finished ushering the last of the sheep into the pen and snapped the door shut. With a satisfied smile, he threw his arm around the neck of one of his sheep. Pulling his smart phone out of his pocket, he extended his arm and snapped a couple of selfies. “Oh yeah…I’m b-a-a-a-a-d!” A sudden blurb of movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. Phone dropping to his side, he squinted at the figure walking towards him, silhouetted against the backdrop of the blazing sun. It was Jesse’s son.
“Hey David, what’s up man?” Abbott called out with a cheerful smile.
“Hey Abbott...I need to ask you a favor.” David’s serious tone matched the concern streaked across his face.
“Uh...sure man. What’s up?” Abbott replied. Where is this going?
Emmet Brickowski is just a regular guy. In fact, he’s so regular, that coworkers and neighbors struggle to piece together any distinguishing features to describe him: “Yeah, he’s kind of your average, normal, kind of guy. But you know, he’s not…he’s not like normal like us. No, he…he’s not that special.” (Barry, The Lego Movie)
“You know, he’s just sort of a…little bit of a…blank slate, I guess” (Larry the Barrista, The Lego Movie)
“We all have something that makes us something, and Emmet is…nothing.” (Randy, The Lego Movie)
But all that changes when Emmet stumbles across the “piece of resistance to the Kragle” (the top to a tube of Krazy Glue in which the z,y, and u have rubbed off). He is subsequently arrested under the tyrannous regime of President Business and is about to be melted when he is rescued by a mysterious girl named “Wyldstyle”. Emmet – utterly clueless to everything that is happening – is questioned by Wyldstyle: