He didn't let go while I slept, didn't let go in the shower (I had to rinse my hair with one hand) and then when I went downstairs and hugged PJ I had to do it with one arm (PJ only raised his eyebrows) and then Caleb too, the spell was finally broken.
Fucking seriously? Caleb asked, stepping back, arms up in surprise.
It's just something I feel like doing, don't mind me, Lochlan says. It's like one of those on-the-lam comedy films where people attempt to run away but they're handcuffed together and must keep each other going, keep up and hide the cuffs with a coat or whatever so no one catches on. Lochlan just has his fingers threaded tightly through mine. I held out until my hand fell asleep and then I pleaded for release and he said letting go was going to be implied but not actually. I don't know if he meant literally but not figuratively but I held to his wishes and we had an amazing day. I drove. He rode shotgun and was kind of cranky and out of sorts all day. I don't know why. Maybe he was mad because I let go.
I stopped at the mall and bought an outfit. I'm very happy I did. Things wear out, plus I wanted a tiny little leopard print bag and if you can even believe it, I found one. It holds my phone, keys, lipstick and a small card case with my ID in it. Which is all I really need anyway and sometimes I just don't want to cart around my giant Rogue bag (Coach, teal with baby-green suede and I love it soooo much but I have a tendency to put everything and then some in it when it then becomes a thirty-pound nightmare that hurts my back and needs its own seat in the truck and then what?
I think it's some sort of weird throwback to diaper bags, when I had to cart everything around, including spare outfits and extra meals, toys and whatever else I might need, although truth be told, I rarely needed anything from it and absolutely envied those moms who threw a single diaper and a bag of cheerios in their purse and off they went.
I learn slowly, if I learn at all.
So yeah it was fun to buy a little outfit (the rest of it besides the purse was plain black leggings and a plain black cardigan, very predictable, I know.) and it was fun to drive Lochlan around, even if he was cranky, and now that the day is done he's resumed holding my hand, tucked in habitually against his chest to the point where I can't do anything, and he seems so happy to hear that, it's difficult to argue my point. I get a brief slow dance through the kitchen after we finish the dishes and then a long embrace as the song ends and we wait for the next one that never arrives and at this point I'm really hoping that tomorrow brings more of the same. He's already made excuses to Sam for wanting a lack of company this evening and something tells me that's not going to change tomorrow for Jesus, either.
Fucking seriously? Caleb asked, stepping back, arms up in surprise.
It's just something I feel like doing, don't mind me, Lochlan says. It's like one of those on-the-lam comedy films where people attempt to run away but they're handcuffed together and must keep each other going, keep up and hide the cuffs with a coat or whatever so no one catches on. Lochlan just has his fingers threaded tightly through mine. I held out until my hand fell asleep and then I pleaded for release and he said letting go was going to be implied but not actually. I don't know if he meant literally but not figuratively but I held to his wishes and we had an amazing day. I drove. He rode shotgun and was kind of cranky and out of sorts all day. I don't know why. Maybe he was mad because I let go.
I stopped at the mall and bought an outfit. I'm very happy I did. Things wear out, plus I wanted a tiny little leopard print bag and if you can even believe it, I found one. It holds my phone, keys, lipstick and a small card case with my ID in it. Which is all I really need anyway and sometimes I just don't want to cart around my giant Rogue bag (Coach, teal with baby-green suede and I love it soooo much but I have a tendency to put everything and then some in it when it then becomes a thirty-pound nightmare that hurts my back and needs its own seat in the truck and then what?
I think it's some sort of weird throwback to diaper bags, when I had to cart everything around, including spare outfits and extra meals, toys and whatever else I might need, although truth be told, I rarely needed anything from it and absolutely envied those moms who threw a single diaper and a bag of cheerios in their purse and off they went.
I learn slowly, if I learn at all.
So yeah it was fun to buy a little outfit (the rest of it besides the purse was plain black leggings and a plain black cardigan, very predictable, I know.) and it was fun to drive Lochlan around, even if he was cranky, and now that the day is done he's resumed holding my hand, tucked in habitually against his chest to the point where I can't do anything, and he seems so happy to hear that, it's difficult to argue my point. I get a brief slow dance through the kitchen after we finish the dishes and then a long embrace as the song ends and we wait for the next one that never arrives and at this point I'm really hoping that tomorrow brings more of the same. He's already made excuses to Sam for wanting a lack of company this evening and something tells me that's not going to change tomorrow for Jesus, either.