Invisible Bob

The other night the boys and I sat down for dinner and I off-handedly remarked how nice it was to be eating together at the table as a family. As if they could sense my inner “single parent” insecurity, they both looked to the empty chair at the table – the chair directly across from me. Jack pointed and asked, “Who’s there?”
Without thinking – without hesitation – I said matter-of-factly, “That’s our invisible friend Bob.”
I took a bite. I was proud of myself for deftly handling this “sad mommy moment.” My subconscious must have been saving the remark for that precise moment when all three of us silently but clearly noticed that our 4-person table was one person shy.
Jack was speechless and wide-eyed. He looked from me to the chair, to me, the chair, to Sam.
Sam kept his eyes on me – narrowing them, he waited about 3 seconds, grinned, then said, “Nah!!!!”
“Sure it is. That’s Bob.” I nodded toward the empty space.
“IT IS BOB!” Jack enthusiastically yelled, jumping on the ‘invisible Bob’ bandwagon.
“HI BOB!” he continued, in his loudest outdoor voice, as if invisible Bob was also deaf.
Reluctantly, almost embarrassed, Sam played along.
“Bob’s eatin’ dinner, too” he said, “looking” at invisible Bob in the empty chair (where a dad should be).
Sensing the potential for awkwardness, the universe decided to get in on the game. A few quiet seconds passed. Then, for no reason whatsoever, a toy fell from the adjacent family room bookshelf. It made a big clatter.
I looked over, feigned disapproval, blame and laugher and said, “Bob!!”
Jack threw back his head and laughed (howled) like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. That set Sam on a laughing spree unlike any other. The sight of the two of them laughing like hyenas got me giggling – and the three of us, er um the four of us, had a great evening.
“Bob” is now a regular at our dinner table. He’s a good scapegoat, too.
Me: “Boys, who put that golf ball in the tulips?”
In unison: “BOB!”
Who said there are no good men left?!