Tomi & Leo, preparing for a walk - Wormy has been lost again, so Goo-Goo and Ennen Cat have been extra-cuddled of late...Even on the tired days of falling eyelids and fizzling nerves, all it takes these days is a giggled phrase or a soft, caring look and a wee hand on the shoulder from one of our boys to take away the sting of the day and send us into la-la land. They bubble, they glow, they let us know every day, in one way or another, that we couldn't have done without them.
The other day, for example:
It was a cold, grey Sunday. But the four of us were utterly content all day, separately and together, doing this and that and the other thing. Mid-afternoon, Jean-Philippe and the boys were bundling up to go outside and kick the ball around. I was zipping up Tomi's jacket, when Leo zoomed by, crying out, "I'M THE PEE-PEE! GOING SO FAST! WHO'S ON MY TEAM?!" Tomi laughed and said, "I'm the caca*! Go-ing-rea-lly-slo-o-ow!" But there was still the question of teams. We all changed teams several times before the family's male contingent got out the door. There was a brief moment of genial ganging up. I think I ended up being on Leo's pee-pee team, though. Not that he noticed. He was too busy zooming out the door and down the steps to the makeshift soccer field, below. I could hear them screeching with delight for the next hour or so, as the bread baked and was brought out, and the Leftovers Soup bubbled away...
p.s. The day was brought to a lovely close with the impromptu visit of a couple of friends, followed by a not-so-good concert (Of Montreal) and a friendly debate (with the friends who weren't enjoying it, and followed me out to the bar for some fresh air - heh! heh!), concerning what, exactly, it was that we didn't like about it.
* caca = poop
