Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Owen likes my new Buddha and he took him from where I'd set him on a table in the hallway to the top of the piano and then raced to the library where the little Buddha has always stood on a stone on the mantelpiece and said, "I take you to your daddy!" and so he did.
Before he did that, though, he brought Daddy Buddha out to the back porch where he was eating watermelon and he thoughtfully gave bites to Buddha and after each bite, carefully wiped his mouth.
After awhile he said, "Buddha, I no give you any more watermelon. Your tummy gonna explode."
You can't make this shit up.
Oh, it's Wednesday morning and if yesterday I felt full of energy and good and happy, today I feel sore and tired and muggy in the brain. And I have no more explanation for why than I had yesterday for my feeling so good. It's all just a mystery to me.
Last night Mr. Moon witnessed a milestone in B.B.'s life. Baby had been taking her into a little box-shelter in the coop every night to sleep but last night, she flew up onto the perch in the coop and called to her chick to join her. Now that baby barely has feathers but she can fly for short flutter-flights. Mr. Moon said she flew to the top of the box and called to her mother and her mother called back and then B.B. flew up to join Mama on the perch and Baby tucked the child as best she could under her wing.
I find it fascinating that the mother bird knows when the baby is ready for a new developmental step. Chickens just fascinate me altogether. I wonder if we'll know when it's time to let the pair out of the coop? I feel quite certain that my own instincts are not as honed as Baby's are.
I need to get moving. Owen's getting a filling today and I'm going with them to watch Gibson in the spaceship pod of a pediatric dental office waiting room while this happens. I'm probably going to be there more to give Lily moral support than anything. HER baby is going to have to go through something which may be a bit traumatic for him and although he's our big, brave boy, he's still our baby too. I'm sure we'll all survive.
There's a lot going on in the world but I neither understand any of it nor care to participate. It seems to me that the older I get, the less I care to engage with it all. I don't give a shit what happened on various awards shows and I can't do a thing about what's going on in Syria. All I want to do is to tend to my own tiny corner of the universe and that is almost more than I can handle on some days. Today, for instance. And so let me tend to that. Keep my plants and chickens alive, do my best to keep my husband healthy, love my grandsons for all they're worth (all their worth?), be there if my kids need me, keep the home fires burning.
Owen asked me yesterday what my work was. We were discussing that Mama was at work and Daddy was at work and Boppy was at work. "Where you work, MerMer?"
It was hard to explain. He's pretty sure that all I do is play with him and his brother.
And so it should be.
Off to play. You play too, if you get the chance.