Twenty more bug bites or so, and a wicked wood splinter under my middle fingernail from where I grabbed a sawhorse without looking to make a makeshift kiln cover when it started to rain this afternoon. Yes I have the kiln under the eaves but only barely and the rain and wind picked up all at once and I'm not taking chances, thanks.
The rest of the day was spent wrapping gifts, decorating and baking a cake for Henry's birthday this weekend. He'll be twenty-one and I am stunned by how fast it all happened, how he was four and asking for more goldfish crackers an hour ago and a minute ago he was nine and having outbursts of frustration and we learned how to help fix them, together.
We read a lot of Robert Munsch (Love you Forever was a staple but our favourites were We Share Everything and A Promise is a Promise) and cooked a lot of dinners together. We read Harry Potter and fell asleep on the couch and rode bikes down the sidewalk in the sunshine. We pet llamas and cuddled cats. We learned math. We had deep conversations about what it means to be emotional and how it's not a bad thing. He makes short jokes. I make tall ones. He asks for help when he needs it and reassures me when I need it, and vice versa. He is the best son a mom could have, frankly and it's very hard to let him go. But as the saying goes, you teach them how to leave you.
He is independent and almost ready for that job that's waiting for him. He hates the heat and loves chocolate, just like mom. He is the rose at the centre of the compass of this Collective. He is Ruth's easy accomplice, and Ben's gullible shadow. He is Lochlan's verbal spar and Caleb's foil. He is a prince among men. He is bunny and I love him forever, my baby he'll be, as the book goes.