One on One
On our front porch, I have hanging pots of petunias. I’ve always loved petunias. Every time we walk past them, a bird flutters out by our heads, all bothered, so my oldest son said, “Mama, pull that down. I bet there’s a nest in there.” So I did, and there was one. We didn’t touch the eggs, only crouched silently over and held our breaths. I took a picture, and then he and I left for the Block Street Party, just the two of us.
One-on-one time together is rare in a house with four children. We’ve found that we all become much better people when we spend time alone together. He and I laughed about things that only the two of us would understand, because we’re a special brand of goofy. I have something special with each of my boys. I bought him a hippie drink and a non-hippie brownie, and we sat still on some old steps and listened to a fiddle play. Over and over again, he would say, “Thank you , Mama, for that drink. It was so good.” He’s never been afraid to put his arms around me.