(We all have that one friend. The one who convinces you to go skinny-dipping/dance on the bar/marry him/get in so much freaking trouble all the time, the last one to grow up, as it were. Ask anyone on the point who that is and we all give you the same name: Benjamin.)
I was sitting by the woodstove, tea in hand, virtually voiceless today from this cold and sore throat and Ben came down and sat in front of me on the side of the couch (it wraps around the woodstove. Not a bad seat on it that way. Custom designed and I love it. It's a huge curve), effectively blocking me in (which they love to do) and every time I tried to get up and go around him or climb over the back to get anything he would grab me and gently pull me back. This went on for quite a while and finally I waited until he was ever so slightly distracted and I launched myself the other way and failed miserably, as he caught me by the knees and pulled me back again.
With each boy that greets us Ben is protective, ashamed and facing forward. It's really not that big a deal, we've done it before. Go a little too hard, love a little bit too much and someone gets hurt. He tries to be careful. It wasn't on purpose but at the same time he didn't pay enough attention, as he misheard a word that rhymes with absolutely nothing else and can't be misheard. Lochlan had left us for a bit, trying to give Ben a little time to reconnect and look what happens.
They made up after a few false stops. It's fine. We're fine. Everything is fine.
I'm not sad about being tethered to Ben either right now. It allows me to see some of things I normally wouldn't, as watching Caleb lean in against Ben's head and whisper that if anything like that happens again in our lifetimes Caleb's going to tear Ben limb from limb was frightening and unnecessary but they all want to flex on Ben and be sure that there's no room here for oopses and uhohs.
He knows. Lord, he knows. It only takes a day like yesterday to remind him of the reasons.
Lochlan's been really great. He even ran me a steaming hot bubble bath last evening, and once I was safely in it, went and got me the largest glass of wine I think I've seen this decade. Then I promptly took a big swallow of Nyquil and had a hell of a night in a sleep consisting of concrete and iron. I'm barely awake today and perfectly content to be here by Ben, and to be kept from falling into the stove or into my daydreams or into some false sense of security that anyone is perfect, ever, because we're not.
I was sitting by the woodstove, tea in hand, virtually voiceless today from this cold and sore throat and Ben came down and sat in front of me on the side of the couch (it wraps around the woodstove. Not a bad seat on it that way. Custom designed and I love it. It's a huge curve), effectively blocking me in (which they love to do) and every time I tried to get up and go around him or climb over the back to get anything he would grab me and gently pull me back. This went on for quite a while and finally I waited until he was ever so slightly distracted and I launched myself the other way and failed miserably, as he caught me by the knees and pulled me back again.
With each boy that greets us Ben is protective, ashamed and facing forward. It's really not that big a deal, we've done it before. Go a little too hard, love a little bit too much and someone gets hurt. He tries to be careful. It wasn't on purpose but at the same time he didn't pay enough attention, as he misheard a word that rhymes with absolutely nothing else and can't be misheard. Lochlan had left us for a bit, trying to give Ben a little time to reconnect and look what happens.
They made up after a few false stops. It's fine. We're fine. Everything is fine.
I'm not sad about being tethered to Ben either right now. It allows me to see some of things I normally wouldn't, as watching Caleb lean in against Ben's head and whisper that if anything like that happens again in our lifetimes Caleb's going to tear Ben limb from limb was frightening and unnecessary but they all want to flex on Ben and be sure that there's no room here for oopses and uhohs.
He knows. Lord, he knows. It only takes a day like yesterday to remind him of the reasons.
Lochlan's been really great. He even ran me a steaming hot bubble bath last evening, and once I was safely in it, went and got me the largest glass of wine I think I've seen this decade. Then I promptly took a big swallow of Nyquil and had a hell of a night in a sleep consisting of concrete and iron. I'm barely awake today and perfectly content to be here by Ben, and to be kept from falling into the stove or into my daydreams or into some false sense of security that anyone is perfect, ever, because we're not.