A Day

After I got Rhys, the giant killer/eater, down for beddy-bye in his brown, footed, dogie pajamas - so cute - Kelly and I spent the evening together, dinning, talking, and making creamy, butterscotch pudding. He actually ate, no, gobbled, two helpings of the meatloaf I made - prominently showing onion flecks and all. Accompanying the main course this evening, Kelly chomped a half an avocado and inhaled several portions of home-made apple sauce. My boy clean-plate-clubbed his dinner. This occurrence is observed as often my hair is cut in the winter months. I offered to make pudding as a reward for his shocking display of Rhys like voraciousness. Perched on his stool at the kitchen island, Kelly helped me (I actually mean it in this instance) mix up the pudding and while it cooked, slow and low, we talked about words for objects in Spanish. I picked off a few of the easy "Como say" questions and we, together, made a list of the words I didn't know: cabinet, picture, floor, salt, pepper, curtain, chair, among others for Manny Manny to translate tomorrow. Tell Manny Manny his name is Kelly Buenowilly. "That's silly."

After we placed the pudding in the frig to cool, I quizzed Kelly, "What should we do now?"
"Look at the moon. Where's the moon? I can't see it."
"I don't know. It's hard to see with all the lights on in the house."
Kelly started touring the house flicking off all the lights until the house was as dark as it could be.
"What are you a vampire?" I asked jokingly.
"Yes, I'm a happy vampire," was his sweet retort.
"Let's go up stairs and see if we can find the moon," I offered.
"No. I don't want to," Kelly's standard answer to everything these days.

He apparently forgot the point of his light extinguishing mission. The joyous search for switches was certainly more fun than moon gazing on a cloudy night, anyway.

So, we sat on the floor for a while, not know what else to do, whispering about not knowing what to do. Kelly's ear-to-ear, toothy grin glowed in the dim light. He clearly was having a ball operating in the novelty of darkness.

"Is it ready?"

We ate pudding together. We read Paul Gobel's "Storm Maker's Tipi" and turned out the lights.

"See you in the morning when the lights turn green. Love you."

"Love you. Good night."