“Mom, the jets go zzzzzffffhhhhhhttttt and spin this part around and then it lifts off and goes into outer space. And this is the engine and here’s where we sit and shoot lasers. We really need one of these.”
I have to admit, the idea has potential.
A jet- zzzzzffffhhhhhhttttting-spinning-lift-offing thingy would get me all the way from A to Z and to every can’t-miss commitment in between. I could leave perpetually-late-and-missing-something behind and hitch my wagon to on-time-and-in-control. At the first sign of traffic gridlock, I could just whip out that handy little laser and clear a path. But until we find a place to put the hockey bag that has a permanent home in the back of my land-locked vehicle, sales might be a little sluggish.
This is the first truly lazy day we’ve had since August. A gloomy and cold November morning – one of those perfect stay-in-your-pjs mornings for watching cartoons under blankets by the fire – when we don’t have to go anywhere. Bellies full of homemade oatmeal and hot bagels dripping with peanut butter and honey, I can hear my daughter commanding her army of Lalaloopsy dolls from the other room while the turtle bangs around and looks balefully down on the chaos from the sanctity of his cesspool. And sprawled on his bed, I am designer to his engineer while he fashions a fleet that will take us to another dimension.
Bare toes peek out while he sits cross-legged in the center of a Lego paradise, head hunched over in determination as he assembles blocks with a boy’s image of the world around him and the one that he imagines.
He looks somehow smaller than the boy that emerged over the summer months. The one that posted the “No Trespassing” sign on his door and who insists on closed doors where once there were none. The one who blushes when I kiss his cheek at the schoolyard gate, but still reaches for my hand walking down the street. The one who wants a computer yet spends hours playing with a rainbow explosion of bricks.
“Mom, someday I’m going to build a ship just like this. And I’ll explore different worlds in space.”
“Can I come? I’ve never been to outer space before.”
“Uh huh. Look, I even made a seat for you guys. Because we’re a family and we take care of each other. You take care of me and her and when I’m big I’ll take care of you and take you to lots of places.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. And you can bring your computer so that you can write stories about us and where we go.”
“Sweetheart, you are my story.”
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