Boys cannot close a door, shut a door, or latch a door. Boys only slam a door. Slam it hard. So hard the entire house shakes. So hard photos are knocked off axis in our neighbors’ hallway. So hard you can still hear and feel the wood frame in your house trembling and groaning fifteen seconds later. It’s out of control, this door slamming issue.
I suppose it’s because they’re in such a hurry to get outside and play, get inside and pee, or get back in the middle of the ongoing battle with the flying frog guys or whoever they’re fighting this time. At any rate, just about the time you’re feeling confident about the fact that you’ve achieved a better-than-80-percent success rate on actually closing the door, boys blow right by you and start with this earth-shattering slamming business.
It’s enough to set off seismic readings. As if the neighbors don’t despise you enough, now the entire geology faculty at nearby universities hates your family. We live close enough to the beach in Florida that I fully anticipate my boys will trigger a tsunami any day now. Probably when the ice cream truck is coming.
And don’t think this doorway violence is limited to the home… Car door slams are among the most painful experiences that parents of boys ever endure. You can literally hear the metal frame of your vehicle creaking and crying from an impact generally 78 times the necessary force required to pleasantly activate the door closing latch. The next sound after that is the tinkling of all those tiny blue squares and octagons of shattered glass as the window crumbles to the bottom of the car door.
“Why? Why must they slam it so hard?” you groan to yourself as you assume the “forehead on steering wheel” international position of defeat.
There is no answer. Just sit there and endeavor to emotionally recover with your car. In the face of such brutality, you must comfort and console one another if you have any hope for survival.