Hiya. How are things? Are you good? Happy healthy and whole?
I hope so.
Personally I have been feeling a little sad, so I spent the past several days organizing my pantry, rearranging my kitchen cupboards, planting seedlings and annuals and hanging baskets, and putting away the winter clothes after washing all the summer ones. I still feel a little sad but now I know that I have dried mushrooms to last me forever so I can stop buying them. Would you like to hear all the luscious organizational details?
Of course not. Hence my prolonged silence.
After offering Patrick a lollipop (he accepted) the nice cashier asked Patrick how old he is.
"Actually, I am three. I am really really three."
"Three!" she said. "And do you like dinosaurs?"
"No, I certainly do not. I most definitely do not. No."
"Oh. What do you like?"
Patrick squinched his face up as if he was in pain (he was thinking) and said, "Fonts."
"Fawnts?" she asked, bewildered.
"Yes, I absolutely like fonts. Absolutely I do. Totally."
She looked at me for assistance but I just smiled at her. I was damned if I was going to explain...
"Franklin Gothic," Patrick offered helpfully. Only he pronounces the word go-thick, like go-kart, whereas we say gah-thick, like ina-GA-ddadavida. I am not entirely sure how he wound up all Canadian but whatever. "Courier. Baby Kruffy."
She looked confused. Or, as Patrick would say, very terribly really completely confused.
"Thank you! Have a nice afternoon," I said, hauling Patrick into one arm while grabbing the bags and sprinting toward the door. "See you next time. Bye."
But I was not quick enough.
"Times New Roman!" Patrick shouted over my shoulder. "TIMES NEW ROMAN!
So there is that.
PS. I went to his preschool picnic and discovered that despite his idiosyncrasies Emily is in love with him. First the teachers told me. Next Emily's mother told me. Then there was the unpleasant yet suggestive squabble between Emily and Elise when Elise also wanted to tuck wilted dandelions into Patrick's hair. Finally Emily drug Patrick by his hand over to where her mother and I were sitting.
"THIS is Patrick!" she beamed. "I love him."
"She does," Patrick said, "she totally really does love me."
"You're kidding" is what I wanted to say. "How nice" is what I managed.
I find parents talking about so-and-so's "little girlfriend" creepy so let's just say that Patrick obviously has a little friend (shall we say an admirer?) and I find it reassuring. How odd can he be, really, if a nice girl like Emily wants to introduce him to her mother?