These wacky boys have settled my heart and so of course, my body feels better too and it was a good day. They decided they wanted pancakes this morning and so I heated up some from yesterday and they didn't eat very much but enough to make me happy and isn't that the point of feeding people?
Well, I think so.
We did all our stuff including chicken feeding (pancakes) and goat gawking and playing in the side yard and telling jokes, the punchline to each one being, "You pee on it."
"Owen," I'd say after each delighted You pee on it!, "I can't figure out how that would work." I was sitting on the swing with Gibson and Owen was sitting on the exercycle and that's where we do jokes.
"It a joke!" he'd say. "You supposed to laugh!"
And I tried. I'm better at bringing myself to actual tears as an actor than I am at fake laughter but I gave it my best shot and then Gibson would laugh too and that would make me really laugh so it was fun.
I smiled this morning when I read Matt Haig's blog post about his son turning six. In it he said that "Five is telling the most terrible of jokes. ('Why did the pig cross the road? Because he had a bottom.')"
I thought to myself when I read that, Well, yes, and Four is the telling of jokes with pee and poop in them.
And Four is also picking a flower for your grandmother to put in her hair and to play pirates ("Let's look for buried treasure! Land ahoy, Captain! Oh wait. We in Georgia. How THAT happen?") and to be eternally hungry.
Four is wonderful.
Gibson has learned to say "yea." He sounds exactly like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man, which is to say, like an adult human male, perhaps with an autism disorder.
"Gibson, do you love MerMer?"
"Gibson, do you want me to hold you?"
Gibson, do you want an apple?"
It doesn't sound like baby talk at all. Not one bit. It delights me so much that I keep asking him questions that I know he'll answer that flat, deep "yea" to. I honestly expect him to follow up with, "I'm an excellent driver," or "K-Mart sucks."He is still such an affectionate little guy. This afternoon I rocked him and he fell asleep in my arms and I went to put him down on the bed but every time I tried to gently disentangle from him, he'd grab me around the neck again and pull me close. It took me twenty minutes to actually remove myself from his grasp and carefully, oh so carefully inch off the bed.
Yes. It was a good day.
And now Mr. Moon is gone off to auction and I've finally cut out the letters for Owen's quilt and that was a bitchy bitch of a bitch-fest for me. I had to go to Hank's and get him to cut me a "W" from a piece of plastic to use as a stencil. I am not kidding. I also had to go to the fabric store to buy interfacing and I did all of that yesterday and going to Joanne's was not a joy and a delight, waiting in line to get my one yard of fusible interfacing cut while every matron in Tallahassee was standing there too with a cart full of red and green and white felt to be cut. Oh well. It was fun going to Hank's where I patted Humbert, the long skinny kitten while Hank got out a pair of scissors and a piece of clear plastic and proceeded to make me a perfect "W" in the space of about two seconds.
It is good to have talented children.
So anyway, yes, I have my letters cut and now I'm going to pin them and sew them on with the machine and tomorrow after I go to the dentist (ARRGGGHHHH!) I will go back to the fucking fabric store to buy embroidery thread to finish putting the letters on because it's not a name blanket if I don't embroider around the letters with embroidery thread and that's all there is to it.
All right. Here's some chicken pictures because they have been sorely lacking around here lately.
And the other day I found a nice green egg in a pot of begonias on the front porch and today I saw Miss Ozzie trying like hell to get her butt into another pot (this one empty but for dirt) on the same porch. The pot was not big enough but she tried and she tried.
She does not look amused, does she?
I went out and checked after they went to roost and no, she did not lay an egg in there but at least she seemed to be trying. It's as if suddenly, they remember their purpose here on earth and I will give them credit for that.
And so it goes and so it has gone today. Children and chickens. And now dinosaur flannel.
I am so very grateful for the sweet normality of it all that I can barely express it.
Yours truly...Ms. Moon