Play

Orange record player
First class ticket out of Dodge
“Puppy Love” express

————

I vaguely remember, the time when I was just little… and my older brother taught me how to write my name.

I remember being very proud of myself.  My brother seemed proud of me too.  And he told me that we could now play a game… a great, fun, NEW game.  I eagerly and happily awaited his instructions.  I would do just about anything my older brother told me to do when I was little.  Something I grew out of, thankfully, but not before learning some lessons the hard way.  This was going to be one of those lessons.

I remember my brother giving me an orange crayon… and he said, “I’m going to go out of your room and count to 100.  When I come back in, anything that does not have your name on it – is mine.”

You would think that

Bees. Why did it have to be bees?

Bees. Great. Now, there’s bees in my new temporary office.   I don’t know how they are getting in and they clearly do not know how to get out. They go towards the light of my window and beat their buzzing little heads against it relentlessly until they collapse and join the other dead bee-bodies on the window sill. How horrific it must be for them. Seeing freedom, but not quite able to reach it, while below all they see is the carcasses of their friends.  If only they had the capacity to grasp the concept of invisible glass walls.  Then, they could take the time to find a way out… but they don’t get it.  Poor little bastards.  They just keep buzzing, and banging their heads, and dropping dead.

I wonder if it’s their little wings or their little hearts that give out first? It must be their wings, actually, because they wind up crawling around for a while before they finally curl up and join their brethren in defeat.  I wonder if their queen misses them? I wonder if they start blaming the bee they followed in there, or if they curse their own stupidity for venturing into unknown territory?  I wonder if in their last hours they beat themselves up internally so badly that their little egos wind up as bruised and battered as their little heads.  Do bees have egos?  Somehow, I doubt it – but then again that may just be my own, much larger, ego speaking.

I wish I could open the window for them and let them out. I would if I could, but,

Losing Debates…

me:  “Good-bye honey.  Can I get another big birthday-hug before I have to leave?”

d:  “sure”

(Insert big hug here…  the kind every mom loves to get from her kid…)

me: “thank you honey.  I love you.”

d:   “I love you more, Mom.”

I smiled.  I love this game…  and we hadn’t played it in a while…

When he was little, we played it all the time…  in various forms.  There was the “I love you ___  than ______” version, which would start off with the usual clichés, like, “I love you higher than the highest mountain“, and then would quickly turn to silly random things…  like, “I love you bouncier than the bounciest bouncy ball!”.   This could go on… and on… and on… usually, delaying bed time in the process…

Yeah, those were good times. But, those times just aren’t as frequent now that “d” is a whopping 9 years old going on 15.  He has his big brother to keep up with, after all.  So, I welcomed this chance to debate an old favorite topic with him.   It was an argument that I had never lost in the past, to him or his brother.  Partly, because not giving in is the fun of it… but mostly, because I truly believe that there’s just no way anyone can love anyone more than I love my boys…

So, I said the expected,  “I don’t think so.  You know I love you more.  But, thank you anyway.”

d:  “I do too, Mom.  I love you more.”

me:  “Not possible.  I love you soooo much, it’s just not possible for you to love me more. But, I’m glad you think you do.”

d:   “I do.”

me:   “no way.”

This may have repeated 2-3 more times…  before  d says to me… very matter-of-factually,

“I do so love you more. Mom,  I’m doing it right now.“

Huh! You can’t really argue with that kind of  logic, now, can you?  Well, maybe you can… but, I didn’t want to.  Besides, he was right.  I could feel the love that he was so adamantly giving wholeheartedly  “right now“.   He meant it.  So, I decided to just soak it in and, admit loving defeat…  for once.  For the first time, really.  But, what a way to go, huh?

So, I said,  “ok….   If you say so.”

(Smug smile from d….)

(Loving smile from me…)

(Exit stage left…)

=)

Sheryl Crow – Sweet Child O’ Mine

Enough

When

I’ve had enough

I’ll say when

When

~smj

TGIF

thank god that’s over
my smile was starting to melt
as the clock struck 5

 

=)

~smj