That is not the order in which events happened. But the events did happen.
I was quite shocked at how well Owen rolled out dough and cut out cookies. I had no idea he would have the knack but he did. The boy may have the touch for pastry.
My favorite part was when I let him decorate one cookie before we cleared the space to do all of them and he covered the tiny thing so thoroughly in every color of frosting we had that it was like an island in a lake of goo and then he sprinkled it all with every variety of sprinkle.
"Mmmm..." he said as he dipped the cookie over and over into the frosting.
Gibson just gloried in it all and quite frankly, we pretty much ate cookie dough and cookies for lunch.
This ain't no daycare, y'all. This is Mermer's house.
It ended up being a pretty long day. Jason got off work late. He works so hard and when it's time to clock out, they don't always want him to let him go. And because this is NOT a daycare facility, he can stay. It's good for him, career-wise, and I can sleep as late as I want tomorrow. I will never get over the way he is when he gets here to pick up his boys. I know he's as tired as can be but he smiles that beautiful Jason smile at them and they run to him for hugs and he picks up Gibson and, well...
Lily chose well when she chose that man to be her babies' daddy.
As a woman, as a mother, as a grandmother, I am blown away by the way he fathers his sons. I'll never forget how when Lily was in labor with Owen and her labor was so very, very long and no one thought she was going to deliver vaginally, how he hung in for every contraction, how he was there for her every moment.
And he's been that way since.
And when Gibson was born, Diana the midwife let him be the one to receive his son.
But as the day lengthened, Owen got tired and at one point, he had a little melt-down because I wouldn't go upstairs with him and turn on the lights so that the monsters would not get him. I did not want to go upstairs. I would have had to carry Gibson on my hip and I was tired and there was no reason for Owen to be up there but he cried piteously and declared that he no longer needed a grandmother AT ALL. He got over it and moved on to sifting seeds in my old flour sifter in the kitchen and drawing some pictures and when he was buckled into his car seat I held him and crooned about all the sweet, good things we'd done today from pretending to be a farmer digging in the garden, to pretending to be Tarzan and climbing trees, to making the cookies, to me giving him a backpack and letting him fill it with things from my house that he could keep forever, to petting the sweet old mule next door and feeding her carrots.
So very, very well.
And dear Lord. I am tired.