Pax Matutinus

I sit this morning drinking my tea with N on my lap. He is curled up, sleepy and snuggling, his puppy-dog breath a far cry from the toothpaste mint of the previous evening. I sit there and hold him and massage his back and shoulders and give his wild hair an occasional gentle tussle. He keeps his head down, buried into my chest and I can feel him growing as he sits there. His bones quietly stretching and his frame taking on a coating of muscle one thin layer at a time. He fits curled up on my lap, but just barely. What was once a whisper of weight on my lap is now substantial and accruing, gaining momentum and closing the gap with the loud weight of years on my shoulders. His knees and elbows now poke out at awkward angles; I'm cradling a goat kid or a foal. I make a mental note to check his paws - just how big will this puppy get? L will still sit quietly on my lap, but when she does it's like holding a St. Bernard. He sits there silently. He hasn't asked for any tea. He hasn't asked for anything. But I know he's quietly waiting for me to relinquish control of the computer I am working on. He's discovered the game of Hearts and is monomaniacal in his pursuit of it. He will play all four hands, assigning one to each family member, and his squeal of delight when he sticks Daddy with the Queen of Spades can be heard throughout the house. But for now patience endures and he sits there warmly and passively. I half whisper what a special boy he is. He raises his head just enough to reply "I know" without the slightest trace of vanity. As I rub his pajamaed back he wiggles a bit to get my hand to just the right spot. I sit with him there for the next thirty-odd years, then I get up and relinquish the computer.

Aren't They Charmin?

I finished this painting of my niece and nephew a couple of months ago, but since it was slated to be a Christmas present, I had to keep it under wraps (so to speak).  But Fed Ex has done its thing and my sister got it today so I can post it now.

My sister Sue and her husband Victor are super hardcore Auburn alum, and while this painting will make perfect sense to the War Eagles in their inner circle, it probably bears a little explanation to those not well-versed in Auburn lore.  After every Auburn victory the crowd spills out of Tiger stadium to Toomer's Corner in downtown Auburn where the victors (and sues) celebrate by launching a few tons of toilet paper into the trees.  A cool tradition, so long as you're not employed as a city maintenance worker.

My niece A (10) and nephew G (8) are as rabid fans as their folks and have done their own fair share of tree bedecking.

Music to Our Ears

N thought Buttercup, our neighbor's pit bull, could use some vocal pedagogy.

It's Always Good to Know the Worker Bees

L lost Tooth #4 tonight.  The tooth fairy found the following under L's pillow.

So she left a response.