moments

Yeah, what about moments?

Some are worth remembering.

Like this. This is a picture Renee took of my Sweetie and me. She took it in a moment with her phone, and I laughed, expecting it to be a hideous picture--my hair looking like a rat's nest, no make up, bad light.


But it's a gorgeous picture--the storm clouds, and the Sweetie l.c., and it's perfect.

This guy gets babysat here pretty often, and he has his moments. Last week, Alicia offered him some frozen blueberries before she left, and who knows why, but he slapped them right out of her hand!


Blueberries flew across the floor, under the rocking chair, all over the place. Alicia and I crawled around picking them up, and you know, it's hard not to laugh. The kid is so cute, and what the heck?

Belatedly, she thought she should at least reprimand him, so she plunked him in the big chair and in the most Alicia-stern voice she could muster said, "No, no!" He looked at us, big open baby gaze.

I told Alicia, "Back when James was little and he'd do bizarre things, Kirsten told me sometimes he had little spells of badness."

Alicia laughed, "Yeah, that was a spell of badness."

But he's usually not bad, and even when he is, mostly I laugh.

Except when he has the toilet brush. Then I holler and chase after him. Why that sends me around the bend, I do not know, but play with anything else in the damned house, except not that.

And not the big scissor either. I'm about as big a fan of that as the toilet brush.

Today we stopped over at my mother's in the morning for a little while. He likes it at my parents', runs to the toys. When it was time to leave, he had a little matchbox digger in his hand, and I said we should leave it for next time.

My mom said, "No, take it. Who would ever miss it or care? He can have it."

Then she paused, "Well, I play with it every night, but I'll try to get past it."

Oh, mama.

(I had an image of her playing matchbox cars while watching American Idol, and it has me snickering again now.)

When Dan left with him tonight, he was in the backseat, still playing with the digger, and I waved good bye and blew him a kiss.

He blew me a kiss back.

Okay, seriously.

He napped in my arms in the afternoon, and now he's blowing kisses?


How much can a heart take?

I love you little boys. love, Grandma