We had a most traditional visit with Gibson, up to and including him allowing me (asking me!) to read him "The Little Red Hen Makes a Pizza" and "Professor Wormbog In Search for the Zipperump-a-Zoo."
I was so happy.
I know that those books with their so very familiar words and pictures are comforting to him, just as they are to me. He still does the voices of the Dog, the Cat, and the Duck in the Little Red Hen book and we both do commentary on the Professor Wormbog book.
What can I say? Both of these books are so charming that even though we know exactly where they're going and how things are going to end, we still feel delight at the conclusions of both. And you know what? Sometimes we still find something new in the pictures that we've never noticed before. Now that's the sign of a good book, whether it's for children or adults. Don't you think?
He slept so late this morning. Such a difference now than when the kids were little and wanted their Boppy to get up with them at 5:30 in the morning. Well, Levon still does but he's been trained to stay in their room until 7:00 under threat of NO TV!
So I'd already started prepping pancakes when he unwrapped himself from his blankets. I'd had a rather horrible night. I kept waking up having bitten my tongue so yes- we're doing that again. I tried to find my bite guard but couldn't and instead woke up my phone which made the bedroom look like an airport runway, lit for take-off and landing. Maurice wanted to get in bed with us but Jack was already there so she just scratched the corner of the bed with her scythe-like claws and meowed. Mr. Moon kept patting the bed to tell her that she should just come on up as he didn't know that Jack was already in the bed and so I laid there, awaiting the apocalyptic battle that would happen if she DID jump up onto the bed.
Luckily, she's not stupid.
Eventually I went back to sleep but it was not restful.
But I managed to make the pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs so all was well. Gibson and I walked up to the post office after breakfast and we even stopped in at the My G*p*y Soul Boutique. He wanted to see what they had.
Well, they have more than they used to and a goodly amount of unpackaged incense that, had I stayed for longer than the ten minutes we were there, would have given me a headache. They still had "natural" clam shells (meaning unpainted, I guess) priced at $1.50 but the most outrageous thing I saw was an objet d'art made from the fallen-off piece of a trimmed palmetto frond that had been painted, mostly blue, but with some sort of possible beach scene at the very top and given a hanging thingee made out of what could have been, uh...I don't know. Straw?
I saw nothing I wanted in the least and neither did Gibson so we came home and I hung sheets on the line before I drove him home.
Trust me- he has already gotten his money's worth, just on the watching part. He's had a great time, sitting in his chair and looking at dream cars go through the line.
He has not bought anything yet. He said he did bid on a '55 Chevy Bel Air but it sold for twice what he bid on it so no, he did not buy it. I would be worried but I know that man and if he doesn't think he can make money on something, he's not going to buy it. And if he does buy it, he will make money on it.
He never ceases to amaze me.
Gibson thanked me several times. God, that boy is sweet.