Ben's Bells, Ralph Stanley, and The Littles

They don't like being referred to that way, the elementary school cohort in Amster's life. True individuals, they require different pieces of my attention.  Always have, always will, I imagine. That's what makes it interesting.

Because of a difference of opinion over child care, my presence was required on Thursday afternoon.  Somehow, life knows when to send me the means to soothe my soul. I was in need, and The Littles were there to help.

Off the bus and into The Schnozz, Kindle taken out and promptly put away as I declared my car an electronics free zone. No, not even just on the ride.  I kept to myself the fact that some of the most interesting conversations I've ever had have occurred just on the ride.

Train switches and round-abouts, bicycle riding and banjos and being the elder sibling, a little bit of teasing and tickling and a whole lot of laughing and we were in the parking lot.... because none of us had any quarters for the open meters surrounding our destination. The Littles help me figure out the Pay Here Machine, Miss Texas ran back to put the ticket on the dashboard, and, after a brief discussion about the difference between the visor and the dashboard, we were on our way.

The last time I brought them, I couldn't keep up.  On Thursday, we all tumbled in together.... noting the restroom on the way.

It's a beautiful, open, courtyard in the middle of downtown Tucson, where the temperatures were in the upper 60's and the sun was playing hide-and-seek between the clouds. The kids carted the supplies to the table

and started painting like old hands.

There was no poking or teasing.

There was serious concentration

and an eagerness to share  

the more interesting of the fired pieces we were able to decorate.

There's something about the atmosphere that brings out the best in everyone.

They were amazed that the activity came with no fee.

We're doing a good deed by making these beads.

The notion was a big one for little heads.

There was silence, and random nodding, and then, accompanying Ralph Stanley on his Pandora Radio station playing softly on my phone, were Messers 8 and 10, crooning that they, too, would Fly Away, oh Lordy

It was a moment, denizens.  

All the pieces of my life were coming together.

There was nothing to do but smile.

At ten minutes to closing, we cleaned up

and rinsed off

and admired our work. 

Do you see the smiley face?

We made a donation, 

I hugged Ben's mom, who was working but still had the time to applaud my BE KIND Ben's Bells' logo'd t-shirt,

we bought some Kindness Coins and a BE KIND hand and took a decal or two 

and I dropped them off at Amster's office, full of stories and Mom, listen as she and I smiled and hugged.

Life is good.

Doing good makes it even better.

Doing good with little ones..... for me, that's the very best of all.

Decorating My House

It's a tradition, now. The first weekend in October, as long as they're with their mom, Mr 8 and Mr 10 come over to decorate.  Now that Elizibeth is in the mix, there's even someone to drag the boxes off the shelves for me.  I unwrap, reminisce, and watch others do the work.

Does that sound perfect? It is.

After lunch at Grumpy's Grill, where Mr 8 explained the size and shape of a driver as we watched golf to our right, and Mr 10 made fun of my Colts Super Bowl t-shirt, favoring the Patriots even after I nixed his love for Aaron Hernandez, as we watched Florida State shut out Maryland... and had a good laugh over Terrapins, while I hummed some Terrapin Station to myself, and smiled.

Then, after Amster paid the bill (did I mention this was perfect?), we drove down the block to my house and they got to work. Mr 10 has very definite ideas about object placement. His brother was more interested in the can of swords I saved from Big Cuter's childhood.  "You're going to hurt someone,"  I heard Mr 10 admonish his little brother.  They grow up way too fast.

We stuffed the torn jeans and orange shirt with newsprint, and I pinned the baseball cap to the McDonald's Happy Meal plastic jack-o-lantern, also saved from my children's youth. The boys were very happy to carry it out to the biggest rock in the front yard, and prop him up, just so.

Seriously, do not knock his head off.

That admonition was tossed aside as they remembered jumping over the installation last year, and decided to try it again.

We lost Elizibeth to the library as Amster and I watched the boys swim.  Their pool is much deeper than ours; it took some reminding before they stopped jumping off the sides. The XXL Ziploc storage bag filled with water pistols kept them quite amused.  I was called upon for technical assistance, but not much else.  Amster and I sat on lounges in the shade, smiling at her children, even as they shed their clothes.

I love it when guests feel comfortable in my house.

Percy Jackson was read, and Odysseus and Telemachus were discussed - "Don't tell me if he finds his Dad!!" - and much chocolate was eaten.

Did I mention that it was perfect?