Post-It

One time on a really hot afternoon when The Big One was My Only One, we used a coupon at Sonic for a free vanilla cone. See, he usually preferred a cup rather than a cone because, always practical, he appreciated the difficulty of his wee self getting the ice cream from cone to mouth w/ little of the sticky.

But, this time he opted for the cone.

I sat in the driver seat and he in the front passenger seat ... buckled in ... tho' he had only moved from backseat to front seat, once the car was stopped, to consume the cone. He had the filthiest fingernails imaginable and a big Band-Aid on his pointy finger. I can't remember on which hand. He was hot and sweaty and in sore need of a haircut.

We were listening to "Woody's Roundup" from Toy Story II on the car stereo.

As he worked w/ increasing fervor on the cone, I thought to myself, "I don't ever want to forget this. THIS. Right now."

So, I added it to my handwritten list of "things that need to go into the baby book" and then transferred the memory during my biannual (again, handwritten) recording session.

But, those baby keepsake books run out at age 5. That's what the fly page says. And I'm NOTHING if not a rule-follower. So the cool boots blog is now the recipient of my previously handwritten ramblings.

***

I do not ever want to forget the way The Short One says, "Clone Trooper" or "Luke," in that perfectly-clipped, hardest-of-hard "k" sounds honed from a year's worth of speech therapy between years four and five. "KKlone.'' "LoooKKe." With the same effort and intensity his brother used to eat that ice cream cone.

But, to The Short One, chocolate ice cream is still "chotlate."

I don't want to forget his struggle and eventual success w/ "Hop on Pop." Granted, much of it is memorized. But even MEMORY is a huge success. WAIT!! This is the kid who knows every Star Wars character and the color of his light "saver." Who quotes lines from Episodes 1-5. Who remembers friends, and events and sequences in such a way it scares me just a little. This is the kid who knows what's important.

I don't want to forget what a brilliantly good speller The Big One is. And how his homework, since day one, has never been anything but his own.

I don't ever want to forget how much our family loved the Olympics this year. How my boys know who Michael Phelps is and how they know I aspire to look as "old" as Dara Torres. (Good GOD, woman!!)

The Short One loved a story of the Titanic we just completed. It scared the ever-loving crap out of him, but he wants to read "more and more about it."

I want to remember how the boys took me on a dove hunt last weekend, along w/ The Tall One and some beef jerky. They let me in on this "club" of birds and guns and Doritos and Slurpees and root beer. (They don't know that this "club" was just their Daddy and me long before they were born. How I'd take my book and lawn chair, point out the birds, shout "Aieee, aieee, aieee," meaning "Right there, right there, right there," having no clue from which compass direction they were flying, and then fetch the birds nearest to my chair. YES, I fetched.) And, while any friend in the world could've filled out the hunting roster, The Short One said, "It's just not the same unless Grandpa's here." And then Grandpa arrived. Out of the blue. Just like the gnats and the sunset. And The Ones were happy.

So, if I forget these things, remind me.