Speaking Of The Buddha

Ah, lah, that child.
Those children.
They actually play together now, Owen and Gibson. They love and adore each other. In the picture above, Owen was making Gibson laugh by laughing at HIM and it worked, as you can see. They interact all day long and when Gibson is napping and I go to check on him (which is about every three minutes), Owen comes with me, every time. Every time.

It was just the sweetest day all around. Easy and light and there was little fussing by anyone although of course I pretty much let Owen do whatever he wants if it doesn't appear to me that it's going to lead to possible devastation and personal injury. I swear to you though, after all those years raising my own four and now three years of taking care of Owen and almost six months of taking care of Gibson some, I still worry myself silly. Last night I woke bolt upright and thought, "Where's Owen?"
I was already worrying about how today would go and one of my worst fears is that I will somehow lose him, as if he could go down the drain if I don't keep a constant eye on him or, I don't know, slip out the door and hitch a ride to Vegas.

The child has a rich imagination. (I have no idea where he gets THAT.) He was hanging my silver bracelets off the switch on the light by my bed and he said, "Oh no. The monsters won't like this decoration."
"The monsters won't like that decoration? Are you decorating?"
"Yes. For the monster birthday."
Birthdays and monsters, like poop, are main topics of conversation for him. He wanted to go through my birthday candles today to get ready for his party. I asked what he wanted for his party and he said that he wants a cake, balloons and Waylon and Shayla. This sounds very reasonable to me.

He told me to call Boppy. That he wanted to talk to him and so I did.
"You coming over, Boppy?" he asked. "I at Mer-Mer's house."
As if I just let his grandfather hang out here, you know. Boppy allowed as how yes, he was coming home to see him and Owen dragged a chair to the kitchen door so that he could wait.
Such a sweet boy he is. When he isn't pretending to be a monster. He wanted to play with a bamboo backscratcher so of course I let him. He announced that it was his "golden weapon." He ate snacks all day long including parts of two nectarines which he insisted were orange pears. Also chips, grapes, smoothie, an energy bar, and a ginger ale which he calls gingerwhale. I kept offering him a cheese toast but he kept refusing that usual favorite and he ate half my almonds after refusing any of his own.

So yes, it was a great day and I even got the dishes washed and black-eyed peas cooking and collards, too so my house smells wonderful and the boys have gone home and Mr. Moon has gone off to do some hunting-related thing, I think. We had a little discussion, he and I, a few days ago about how much time hunting seems to be taking up in his life lately and he agreed that perhaps he was a bit over-the-top with it (okay, that's a lie, he never admitted that, I just pretended he did) and then when it got cool the other day he said, "Makes me thinking about HUNTING!"
"You," I said, "have brass balls."
He does.
Well, as I told him, I plan on being with him for the rest of my life and so if that's the way it is, that's just the way it is and that's the way it's going to be and hell, I like being alone anyway.

Heartfelt shit, y'all. That's what marriage is all about.

That and a lot of other stuff including blackeyed peas and collard greens and martinis on the porch and god-if-you-can't-laugh-you-might-as-well-die and clean sheets and holding hands and walking out to check for eggs together.

And now grandkids. It's such a cliche how when you fall in love with someone and want to marry them you think about how awesome it will be to eventually become that old couple sitting on the porch and watching your grandkids play.
You just didn't really think it would ever truly happen to you- you goddess or god of eternal youth- though, did you?

Well, watch out. And buy your porch furniture with comfort for bony old asses in mind.

One day I swear you'll find yourself kissing your grandbaby's cheek while your old man is kissing the same child's foot. And it'll be sweet.

I guess that's pretty much what it's all about. Well, and sex which is what leads to grandchildren eventually in some cases.

A good day, even if I didn't take a walk. The world still, somehow, manages to spin. I figured it would but I wasn't sure.

I'll take one tomorrow, having no need to take chances with earth-spin continuity. I promise.