Nickel Creek playing..."I might as well be dreaming...round...round...in my head...."
Three boys at the table. The littlest, speaking in sweet, sometimes unrecognizable words. Bright eyes, who appears tremendously excited to be eating with his daddy.
The daddy...taking in the moments. I can tell. He's serious. Gentle look in his eyes. Taking care of the boys' plates of pizza. And their sauce covered mouths.
The littlest grins, and giggles...over his straw.
The next oldest eats the pizza with two bites. Ready to go do something else already...perhaps a ride on the bike outside. He's also enthralled with his new gloves and hat.
The daddy smiles at me. Takes his salsa on his pizza, and eats it. Kisses the little boy as he lifts him up to the kitchen sink so he can wash his hands.
Sunlight, warmth showing in this evening hour. He holds him, making sure he isn't falling. Checking the soap is all over. Rinse...rinse...dry. I see the Daddy's strong hands hold the little's elbow. A kiss on the head or two. "You smell like a pizza, Wd."
WD runs away with Georgie.
But just minutes later, the little is in the Daddy's arms already. Playing a game, lift up, lift down.
They reach a decision for the evening. Go feed the ducks.
Horse girl is not here. Mommy wants peace and quiet, since she is nursing a big headache from all day.
Daddy disappears...little yells, "Daddy!?" trying to find him...telling him all the while what he is going to be doing, this and that.
The middle child trying to hold on to all the patience he has before they can leave the nest. Making noises, and rough housing a bit too much. Expected. One day, that will be missed.
And so will the "ribbit frog" ribbiting down the hallway.
And his little, "I need you, Mommy. And you're mommy frog." Cuz Georgie is now Baby Frog.
I hear the microwave beep for the third time. Rich's tea water is done.
Mandolin notes flicker in and out of the radio. Lights off. Off they go.