The other night Henry woke up at 3am, rearin’ to go and play. He insisted George take him to play, but he was being so loud, chitchatting up a storm, that he woke up all of us. A storm came and we listened to the thunder and watched the lightning flash through our bedroom and giggled under the covers. Pure magic. The last thing he did before FINALLY falling back asleep was stare at his thumb and say “Bebe, fumb, bebe, fumb.” He is speaking so much, but still speaks in his own little language. A car is a “vroom vroom.” Stairs are “down down.” Dogs are “Voof Voofs.” Kitties are “titties.”The extraordinary thing is he’s potty training himself! He’s not even 2! He says “poop” or “potty” and actually uses it. Completely amazing.
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The Butcher and the Butterfly
My bus arrived, and I loaded my bags and sat down. When I looked back out my window, the butcher was standing outside, looking at me, his moustache curled up as he pointed his finger. I looked where he was pointing, and saw the butterfly fluttering right by my window, the sun shining through its wings like they were delicate stained glass windows in an ancient cathedral, and I had to glance down to make sure I was actually on a bus and not a magic tapestry.
