the day is spent working, laughing, tempering my humor to ensure that my chaos, the framework that should reside in me to cater to the appropriateness of my relative environment, does not overwhelm the status of things in the room. i have grown insecure of my sense of humor, possibly for the first time in my life. my sense of humor is a character that i play, more like a mirror of myself. it is a separate, sacrificial, virtuous thing within me, that is somehow better, more honest, and more sincere than the rest of me. and i have found few that understand it. or maybe they do, but i perceive myself as different, and assume they don’t.
i met nick who seemed to be in good spirits after work. he passed off ronan to me, who gave me the most tender little hug, and when i kissed him, he pressed his cheek into me so that i would not stop. he does this every day. he loves kisses and always leans into them. when he was a newborn, we were told not to kiss him on the mouth, but we did anyway. we did constantly. nick and i have swarmed ronan with constant affection and admiration. it would feel unnatural not to.
we went home, and we played outside. i sat on the steps while dixie and ronan puttered around in the driveway, eventually going to sit in the driveway with ronan, who would pick up rocks, place them in my hands, and then count them incorrectly. at one point, there were three, and he said, “one, two, three, six, seven!” or more like, “seben!”
he crawled up into my lap, and i held him, leaning to find rocks to give him. he was rolling them down the driveway like tiny bowling balls. then, he climbed onto my back and i ran around the yard with him, both of us barefoot, surrounded by mosquitoes.
we went inside, and ronan took a bath while i scrolled twitter, sitting on the toilet (lid down) while he splashed in the water, inevitably making a mess. no bother. when he was finished, he said, “diaper change?” so i pulled his wet, sweet little body out of the water, wrapped him in a towel, and hugged him, like i always do. he looks like he’s wearing a giant robe, and i love to pick him up with the towel wrapped around him and carry him to the bedroom to put on a diaper.
shortly after, i cooked, and he came to me shivering because he was cold, so i asked if he wanted to wear a sweater, mostly because i love when he wears my clothes. they hang off him and expose his tiny little shoulders. he said, “wear a sweater,” in response, so i got him one, rolling up the sleeves and buttoning the front, and he wore it for the rest of the evening.
i made him homemade chicken nuggets with carrots and spinach, rolled in buffalo powder and panko, and they were delicious. i ate a few myself.
eventually, we retired to bed, and i got overly frustrated with ronan for taking way too long to fall asleep. the last two nights i’ve not held him while we fell asleep, and we’ve retired to separate parts of the bed. he takes longer to fall asleep, especially since i’m not rubbing his legs or his hands like i used to. and i will occasionally still do that i’m sure, for sentimentality’s sake, but i want to start getting him used to falling asleep on his own–too late, i’m sure, for a 23 month old.
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