Monday, August 1, 2016

Soixante-six

Tattoos! Done by himself except for a name drawn by his mama.
Wayson and his buddy.

A hurricane blew in and suddenly everything was upside down. Two small people were rampaging through the house, one on all fours, one on his extremely swift feet. I turned away for a second and when I turned around, Ben was about to hurtle off a cliff. Eli distributed all the toys all over the floor. Ben threw all the food from his highchair. The kids splashed madly in the wading pool and soaked everyone. Wayson sat serenely taking in the chaos. Sam was late getting back from a cottage.

But at last, by some miracle, we sat down to dinner, Eli discovering the joys of mashed potatoes, Ben gnawing on a corn cob, the rest of us managing a full plate. Sam cleaned it all up and they all went off to their lives.

It's 8, it's quiet, I am now well and truly 66. Not sure how that happened - not that long ago, I was 23. My skin, back and eyes were better, but nothing else was. I'll take 66, with gratitude.

I'm going to have some of my birthday chocolate now. Onward.

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