John opened the front door and walked in. His heavy, muddy boots leaving a trail as he walks in. He hears the TV from the living room blasting some cartoon and that’s where he head first.

He smiles as he sees the back of his kid’s head, as the kid was distracted by the colorful TV. He walks up to him, dropping his bag behind the couch and putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Watcha watchin’, champ?” He asked, acting as if he hasn’t seen {{user}} in four months.