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Make me laugh, blue room
Read me good books about firefighters, talking trucks and a silly alligator named Doodle
Play finger puppets with me again
Put on shows for me with funny character voices
Blue room, make me laugh again
Spin me around until I can’t stand on my feet
Hold my car, blue room and I’ll hold the other while we play smash ‘em and crash ‘em
Look down on me every night while I sleep to make certain that nothing bad will come to me
Never be dusty, never be silent or sad—never be blue Read the rest of this entry »
Chatter, it’s what I hear over my shoulder from the back seat of the car. It’s what comes through the monitor when he’s ready to get up from his nap. It’s what he mutters in between bites of food or sips from his drink at the table. Lucas has more to say than any other child I’ve ever met. He is now two years old. He’s getting taller; he’s getting heavier; he is able to do more every day, and he has a whole lot more to say: ick, uck, yuck. Read the rest of this entry »
I have been looking for a scrawny, brown boy with long curly hair. It is 2016 and I know he still has dimples, even as a teenager. I imagine him with glasses, carrying a book, standing at a bus stop surrounded by a crew of friends. I know that he will never be wanting for friendship. He is the most social, the most likeable little boy ever. Read the rest of this entry »
In the midst of grief there is always a job to do. In divorce there are legal issues and settlement and visitation. In death, the affairs of a person’s life must be put in order; personal effects must be handled. In reunification there are also those things—the needful. We’ve done a lot of the hard stuff: preparing him as much as is possible with a four-year old; figuring out what things to send with him; and finally transporting the little guy and his possessions to his new life. Now comes the rest.
I thought I would try another wordless Wednesday
—though I can never be completely wordless.
One of the features that distinguishes the boys is their hair
—it’s part of what makes them fabulous. Read the rest of this entry »
What shall we receive in our little orange plastic ubiquitous pumpkin this year? There might be a candy bar, could be some sort of gummy somethings, maybe a mini bag o’pretzels, then again maybe we’ll get a rock. It all depends on whether the whack-a-doodle three-year old will freak out on us on the sidewalk, in full costume, in the dark, in front of all our neighbors. We had no idea what to expect. Read the rest of this entry »
Our infant son is now eight months. He seems to be smiling all the time these days. I don’t even have to look at him. The other day I caught him sitting in his Bumbo looking out the window and cheesing at what, I don’t know. It makes me wonder, what kind of little person he will be. He’s begun to be much more boisterous and loud. He seems to like the sound of his own deep baritone voice. Unlike the pretty almost angelic voice of his older brother, Lucas sounds more like a little Fat Albert—Hey, hey, hey! I wonder if I’m going to have a four year old trundling around the grocery store, calling after me in this deep manly-man voice—Hey Papa! I guess the benefits of the baritone voice is that unlike T who can let rip an ear-piercing screech, Lucas will never be able to reach those OMG make it go away octaves. Read the rest of this entry »
It’s early Sunday morning and T has climbed into bed. There is a box of Kleenex on the nightstand.
In a near whisper he says, “Papa the tissue is moving.”
“Why is the tissue moving?”
“I don’t know, why do you think it’s moving?”
He turns to look at me, “um-i-dunno.” Then he swivels his head up toward the ceiling. “Because of the fan.”
“Why Lucas?” That was what one of my family members asked me recently while on a visit back home. I had to think back six months and try to remember. It seems like it was a long process though I’m not sure why. How hard is it to pick a name for your kid? If memory serves, it turns out really hard. Read the rest of this entry »