Love Letters
As predicted, moving with a bun is less than optimal, although I haven’t decided to trade him in yet. Unfortunately, I also have the worst case of laryngitis I’ve ever had (not even a squeak could pass these lips until about an hour ago–and now I’m back to silence again) which renders loan discussions pretty much moot, and I had to use my husband as a translator with a contractor which was pretty much a comedy of errors.
Trying to corral the bun when I can’t holler a good “BUN!” at him for effect has forced me into creative discipline. Shiny things have their place; I can dangle them in front of him and hope they distract him enough that he doesn’t yank the glassware that I just packed over on himself. It’s worked so far.
So being sick and mute, while packing and chasing a tiny force of nature from room to room? I felt just about ready for a soak around 4:00 pm.
Leaving him in the exhausted arms of my husband, who has also been chasing him hither and yon, I drew a hot bath and tucked in with a Harper’s. But the bun has, on top of being a “sprinter” and an “explorer” been a “whiner” and a “back archer” today, flinging himself to and fro like a petulant starlet dissatisfied with the service. And so my bath was punctuated by ear-pricking keening and the occasional fit of pique.
My poor husband kept trying to keep him from the door, but the bun knew where I was. He couldn’t stand my being right there without access, and even with my husband dragging him away numerous times, he knew the route.
Finally, fed up with my near-away-so-far absence, he sent me a little message. Under the door like a spy he slid his secret sign, a yellow star from his shape-sorter. I saw his little fingers push it hopefully as far as he could through the crack. Would his signal receive a response or would there be radio silence?
Naked, sick, soaking in the tub wishing away the stress, and still I couldn’t resist. I got out and shoved it back under in a different spot. Back and forth it went, me dripping on the floor, my bath steaming behind me, passing a plastic star back and forth with a very happy tot.
I have to admit, I was pretty moved.
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