My ex’s grandfather died today. And my Kitchen-Aid mixer is still packed from the kitchen remodel, so I couldn’t make chocolate chip cookies. If you know me, you know that I believe most things can be fixed by making chocolate chip cookies.
It’s not often that I cry, but this old man was a good soul — he’s worth a tear or two or ten. My son heard me and got out of bed. There’s a line where motherhood meets humanity and tonight, humanity won.
Tonight’s story isn’t really one for the public, except, I never want to forget it. And I’ve long since given up journals.
My boy came out to the livingroom in his green footy pajamas, and stated, “As your Right Hand Man, I want to know if there is anything I can do for you.”
I said, “Yeah, you can go to bed, it’s 10 p.m.”
And he said, “Blue puppy (his stuffed animal since birth) and my pillow and I have been camped out right here (pointing to the hallway) and we can hear you cry.”
I replied, “Crying isn’t always bad. I’m happy and safe and it’s time for you to go to bed.”
And my dear little man stood, hands animated like I couldn’t believe:
“There are three things you need to understand:
One: We men always play to our strengths. People who know how to play Bridge understand this, but you don’t know how to play Bridge.
Two: You have to put your hobbies first when you speak. What are your hobbies, Mom? Cooking? That’s not a hobby. Kids? I’m not a hobby, mom! You have to think of a good hobbies. You like football. And soccer. Those are good hobbies.
Three: You say things like ‘happiness’ and ‘health’ and ‘karma’ but those are all spiritual things. Don’t say spiritual things. You can say hobbies. Like if you say ‘technology’ I will say that’s a good one.”
I literally was struck silent. In fact, even as I type, I’m still shocked, just trying to type before I forget what he said.
I teased him, “Technology my bum, little one!”
He wouldn’t budge.
I asked him if he wanted to call my ex. He said, “Some things need time. I will call her another day.”
Again, he struck me silent.
“Everything is fine, son,” I told him.
He looked at me, standing in the hall in his green footy pajamas and Blue Puppy hanging from his fist, “I know. But I’m your right hand man.”