Our Hero

 

don’t know about you,

But we’re on countdown.

Started February 28:

Twelve more days;

Eleven, ten 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 -3 – 2

Will you be here for the Blast Off?

Tuesday, March 11

6-8 PM

Ed’s Birthday Celebration

His day

His say

His way

Cake & Ice Cream

 It snowed on the morning of Ed’s birthday.

 

 

Unusual.

He knew I would be busy

So he didn’t come down for games.

He’s always been thoughtful that way.

When he was little,

He would get up before anyone else

And quietly play in the family room

With the door closed

Until the other children got up.

We had a little open house

With the neighbors and 

his brother and family

 dropping by.

 

 

 

 

 Happy Birthday, Ed.

Shirt Dennys gave him to wear while riding his trike; card and letter from Aunt Verla

Some Eddyisms around his birthday time:

I had been dropping things all morning. 

An orange rolled off the counter, a glass fell.

“Why does everything fall?” I exclaim in consternation.

“Because of gravity, Duh,” Ed prompts.

Later as we were brushing teeth, the toothbrush fell in the sink.

Dismayed, I stand it back up grumbling the whole time.

“Did you forget what I told you? Gravity!  Without it, we’d all float up in space,” he reminds me as he flaps his arms out like he’s gliding.

My science lesson today.

*

His dad is taking him on a little birthday trip per tradition.  At first he didn’t want to go:  “Been there. Seen it.  Done it.”  I told him that maybe he could stay home and take care of the cats and I would go.  Suddenly he decided he wanted to go and became very excited, except:  “I hate to leave you though. You’re my swimming buddy and my hiking buddy.”

 *

“Spring has arrived!”  Ed announced at the precise moment standing in the pool as we prepare to lap swim. 3/20/14

 *

We drop DeRay off at the doctor’s office on the way to the gym, planning to pick him up on our way back.  In the meantime, DeRay calls and says he has a ride home.  I don’t mention this to Ed.  I can’t hear him because when I’m driving, he’s on my deaf side, but I see him point toward the hospital complex as we drive by on the freeway.  A little later, calm but more forceful, he asks: “Weren’t you suppose to pick somebody up?”

He wasn’t about to leave his dad stranded but he can’t be direct.  He has to talk in riddles.

 *

“Thank you for the dinner, Mom.  Thanks for making my bed like a good slave.”

“I’m glad I’m good for something.”

“I’m good for nothing.”

What does he mean, he’s good for nothing?  He’s good to give me something to do so that I’m not good for nothing.

 *

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” I said as we play board games.

“That’s what mothers are for.”

“No.  Mothers are useless.”

“USEFUL,” he corrects.

Nice.  

 *

"All I want to do is sit today," I say to Ed.
"Nope.  It's dangerous. That's why I get up and move around."
I think his brother Brent taught him that.

 *