“Aren’t you glad you are flexible mom?”
My son and I were walking back from an early morning game of passing the puck on the icy roads near our house.
“Yes. I am.”
“I knew you would enjoy this game.” He said proudly with a twelve year olds wisdom.
And I did.
I enjoyed his company, the light of the early morning sky, the way most strangers smiled in amusement, the way he passed pucks accurately and softly this season (less chance of twilight blue marks on pale winter shins).
I enjoyed the way being a mom has made me less conventional.
But mostly I enjoyed his smiles and our laughter.
Inspired by “jolly” in daily post and the first snow.
“Ba ha ha ha”
His evil laugh echoed through the house.
“I have you now.”
I curl smaller in the dark space.
He storms from room to room.
I breathe quietly.
The door to the bedroom opens.
He stomps around the room and I wonder if he knows I’m here.
I see the light of the flashlight sweeping back and forth but never shining onto the closet where I hide.
I realize he’s he must be toying with me.
“Ba ha ha ha” he yells and I hear his footsteps running towards me.
I scoop him up.
He holds me tight.
“You’re in my clutches.” He’s says.
I smile, tuck him in and kiss him good night.