Beautiful Boys

It was a very fine day. I took my walk and when I got back, Lily and the boys had gotten here and were already settled in the Glen Den, Lily nursing Gibson and Owen playing with his toys. I was hot and sweaty and took a shower after I kissed them and Owen accompanied me and took off his clothes and pretended to take a bath while I took a shower and I put my clothes back on but he did not. This was handy in that every time he needed to pee, he went outside and did it.
As Lily says, he is not yet potty-trained but he is becoming house-broken, and we are proud of that.

Before I took my shower, though, we all went to check on the baby chicks. Once again, Owen said he wanted to hold one, but when the little chick was put in his hand, he didn't really like it. He did pose in front of them though, so that I could take his picture.

I think he is the loveliest two-and-a-half year old in the world. Of course, I am his grandmother and so of course I think that and I SHOULD think that but I honestly do.
"Come here," I tell him all the time. "Let me kiss you."
What IS it about humans and our need to kiss?
Sometimes he lets me. Sometimes he says, "Sorry," and runs on to whatever it is he wants to do next. But sometimes he says, "Sure, sure," and runs over and lets me plant one on him. His mama does the same thing but he ALWAYS kisses her. He kisses Gibson on the head a lot, too. He is quite cheerful these days, Owen is. I think he loves having his mama home all the time.

I made a curried chicken salad and felt like a real lady making real lady food. It was a curried chicken salad with apples and raisins and I served it on mixed greens. La-di-dah food. Owen ate Chex Mix and an apple. Oh well. Gibson ate...milk.

After lunch we hung out on the front porch some. I got to hold my youngest grand. He was in a good mood (and he usually is, that blessed little boy) and I took some pictures of him.

Here he is, thinking.

And here he is, sort of smiling.

Of course, I think that HE is the most beautiful two-week-old in the world. And I kiss him so much that I'm afraid his lips might wear off. I remember worrying about this same problem with Owen though, and he still has lips so I guess it won't happen.

While I was holding Gibson, Owen was running around the front yard naked except for his new Scoobie shoes and shooing the chickens. That's what he calls it because we tell him not to chase them. "Shoo, shoo," he says, brandishing his stick which is an old dead branch from the Confederate Rose right by the porch.
"Don't you chase my chickens, boy!" I told him. "You chase my chickens and I'm taking that stick away and we have to go in the house!"

This slowed him down some but not a lot. I gave him some old fruit salad and told him to feed the chickens instead of shooing them and he did. He is such a boy. I love him so much it makes my heart hurt like maybe it's going to explode.

But still- he can't chase my chickens. No one, not even my grandson, is allowed to chase my chickens.

Lily was tired and the boys were getting that way so they packed up and went on home and I came in and tried to pull the house back together and then I laid down and took a little nap. When I woke up, Mr. Moon was home and it was raining a little. It still is. Not enough but maybe the dust will get tamped down, at least. I'm writing this on the back porch and he's sitting across from me, playing poker on his iPhone, coming down from the ride back from Orlando. He's so handsome. I think he's the most beautiful fifty-seven-year old man in the world.
Of course, I'm his wife. But still.

Here's a picture of him with two of the groupers he caught last Sunday. Remember I talked about how happy he is to go fishing? Well. Here's what I mean.


And tonight I'm going to heat some of that grouper up that I cooked on Sunday and we'll eat it for our supper.

It's been that kind of day. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet, one perfect moment after another, each in its own way.

I'll take that. And kisses. All the kisses I can get.

But don't chase my chickens. I'll take your stick away and we'll have to go in the house.

Come here. Let me kiss you.
Thanks.
I mean it.