I took Ben a hot chocolate last evening. He's escaped back into his studio at last, back to work, back to creating beautiful things, back to being all but absent, mostly thundering through the house to make sure I'm happy and check in, check in with the kids and with the other boys and then he's gone again.
Just what I wanted, he smiles at me.
A hot drink?
A hot wife. He grabs me and pulls me into his lap and that's it. For the next two hours we remember our own brand of love and when he finally lets go and I can put back on every piece of clothing he had removed, he takes a sip of his now-tepid hot chocolate and proclaims it perfect.
Like you, I tell him.
Far from it, Bee.
Not to me. I don't bring treats to people who don't deserve it.
True. True.
Come upstairs.
I will in a bit.
But he won't. He'll work all night and if that happens I'll bring down eggs and toast for him in the morning and then convince him to go nap for a little while, at least.
Just what I wanted, he smiles at me.
A hot drink?
A hot wife. He grabs me and pulls me into his lap and that's it. For the next two hours we remember our own brand of love and when he finally lets go and I can put back on every piece of clothing he had removed, he takes a sip of his now-tepid hot chocolate and proclaims it perfect.
Like you, I tell him.
Far from it, Bee.
Not to me. I don't bring treats to people who don't deserve it.
True. True.
Come upstairs.
I will in a bit.
But he won't. He'll work all night and if that happens I'll bring down eggs and toast for him in the morning and then convince him to go nap for a little while, at least.