August and I picked camellias today and he carried some in. We put them in vases and he loved the fact that one of the bushes bears the name Peppermint Stick. Or at least I think that's what it's called.
Okay. I just looked it up and it's actually called La Peppermint.
You can see how it got its name.
We had such a good time with that boy. He leapt up at 7:30 this morning, stripped of his pajamas which I hear is what he always does. I have no idea when or how he unzipped them and took them off but he did and he does. He looked at our bed, saw his grandfather wasn't there and raced off to find him without a word to me.
I turned over and went back to sleep. And when I got up his grandfather had dressed him and given him juice and they were waiting patiently for pancakes.
The requisite pancake picture.
When he finally sat down to eat he grabbed up his fork and said, "I'm a hungry boy!" and he gobbled them down along with some bacon.
It charms me tremendously that he still wants to sit in the high chair and eat off the princess plate. Ritual is scrupulously observed here at the Moon house.
He helped his Boppy clean a car and do other Boppy-related things and then I asked him if he'd like to go to the dump place with me to take the trash and this, too, is another cherished ritual, believe it or not. It's very special because instead of sitting in his car seat, he gets to sit on Gibson's old booster seat for the entire block-and-a-half journey.
I was putting the bags of trash and recycle in the car and said, "Where are you going to sit, August?"
"The booster seat," he said. "Did you forget?"
He truly thought perhaps I had.
The floor of the back seat of my car is filled with kid books. He wanted The Grinch and I gave it to him. We safely navigated our way to the dump place and back without incident, I am happy to say.
I will absolutely admit that August much prefers the company of his grandfather to that of mine. This doesn't upset me in the least and I think it's beautiful. He is absolutely fascinated by Boppy who has all of the tools, like his daddy does, and fishing stuff and machines and a tractor and also, the big comfy chair in front of the TV. I know there's more to it than that. He simply adores Glen. He follows him around like a puppy. But he will hang out with me too. We read a lot of books this afternoon. He always wants the same ones over and over again and they seem to be the same ones that Owen and Gibson always wanted and in fact, still do if only for the nostalgia and ritual factors. And the ones they like are ones that I rarely tire of reading out loud, so that is good.
He is still asking WHY? about forty-two times an hour. He has definitely not grown out of this phase. And he wants to know what every character in every book is saying.
"What he say?"
"He says, "Hello, Jack."
I DON'T KNOW! HE JUST DOES!
We also played the Dr. Seuss matching game which all of the kids have also loved. You're supposed to play it with the little cardboard tiles facing down so that you have to remember where they are on the table but frankly, I'm not up to that sort of memory game and truthfully, never have been. We play a simplified version which makes us all happy and there are bite marks on some of the tiles from Gibson who used to chew on them when he was a baby when Owen and I played.
Jessie and Levon showed up in the afternoon to pick the boy up. He had said steadfastly all morning and early afternoon that he did not want to go home but he seemed pretty happy to see his mama. He hugged Levon and asked Jessie, "What Levon say about me while I was here?"
Which I thought was a fairly advanced concept to wonder about.
Levon is talking some and his walking has gotten to the expert level.
He's also cute as hell.
He's also cute as hell.
He wants to do what his brother does and here they are, knocking on the screen door from the inside for some reason I cannot fathom.
I gave him a celery stick and he kept offering me bites. He is generous. He is also a good kisser. When I went to kiss him good-bye, he offered me his sweet little baby lips. Levon is pretty much just the perfect one-year old. A little shy but a jolly fellow when he gets comfortable.
After a short visit, Jessie collected August's backpack and the stuffed sloth he'd brought and buckled the boys into their seats and Glen and I kissed them good-bye and off they went to go pick up Owen and Gibson who are spending the night at Jessie and Vergil's house.
August was powerfully excited about that. He worships his big boy cousins.
I have finally finished unpacking. I think I have finally finished the laundry. Well, almost. I have clean sheets on the bed and I am cooking black-eyed peas for our supper because we did not eat any on New Year's Day which is yet another ritual that southerners observe here in the U.S. We did eat about a tablespoon apiece of refried black beans on New Year's Day at Playa Corona with our shrimp quesadillas and so I don't feel as if we missed the good luck window for 2019. Still, black-eyed peas are delicious and there's no reason not to eat them, whether for luck or just plain old gustatory satisfaction.
So I better get to it. Gotta cook the rice and broccoli. You're supposed to have greens with the black-eyed peas but my garden is still in a strangely stunted place of growth and I don't have enough to cook and I refuse to buy them this time of year. My mother always said that you eat the peas for peace and rice for riches but who knows?
I'm also going to cook some cornbread (for contentment?) and I need to get on with that too.
Tomorrow is Magnolia June's birthday. She will be three years old. Can you believe it?
Dang these children. They just keep growing up and it happens faster and faster with each subsequent child.
Do you suppose that perception has anything to do with my age?
Yeah. It does. But it's my reality and that's just the way it is.
Can't change it. Gotta go with it and try to cherish each moment as it happens.