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Thursday, February 24, 2011

Only YOU Can Prevent Playgroup Destruction

That fuzzy picture, my friends, taken by lone survivor H.M., is what's left of our house after yesterday's playgroup.  I headed over there at lunch to nab my share of the BLTs.  It was incredible to watch.  But fearing I'd eventually step on somebody, and there was a pretty good chance of that, I polished off my sandwich, some banana bread, a muffin, half a cookie and what ginger ale Jack left in my can and blew out of there.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was strictly for the professionals.  And I ain't no profeshunul.

I can't think of much to write about.  The days are beginning to lengthen, and the sun feels hotter. I even got my first sunburn of the year (probably of many) on the old pasty English-derived hide.  There's lots of work going on in the new sandbox, and we're walking around the neighborhood with Jack almost daily.  Mostly we pull him in the wagon, but sometimes he likes to jump out and stretch his legs for a bit.

You know when you were very young, and all you could think about was, "Wow! This is great.  I wonder what's next!"  I think I'm there.

I love this kid.  I love the way his little voice sounds out our big, grownup words.  I love the insane way he seems to hurtle through space as he runs.  I love his prayers.  Majesty and I figure the LORD must get a chuckle out of at least a few of them, because we sure do.  We're both snorting and wheezing by the time he hits the amen.  I love his trademark Squeezer Hugs.  I love, as has been documented here ad nauseum, his rocking out on his guitar.  He's not fooling around; three strings on it are just almost gone.  I love the way he demands some form of berry after every single meal.  I even love the way he gets tickled when we're just aaaaalmost asleep and we read that one line in the book that he finds - suddenly - absolutely hilarious.  And he dies laughing.  And I die laughing.  And H.M.'s downstairs wondering what in the wide world of sports is going on up there.  And I love the way that I am almost positively sure that I've had a small hand in creating something... someone far better than I.

What else can I say?  His Mommy is doing a great job raising him, and I'm hanging on by my fingernails, watching it all in amazement.

And I wonder what's next.

2 comments:

Paula said...

i hope you save this for Jack to read one day! even if he may not fully appreciate it until he has his own little one running around :)

hope you guys are doing great up in the woods! we miss yall!

El Comodoro said...

Thanks a bunch, Paula.

And if I can ever finish it, I'm putting this whole thing in book form as soon as possible.