Kings and Thanksgiving

Alouicious fell on the ice on Friday, immediately upon sliding his skate happily out, after weeks of joining in the whining that the rink had opened and we weren't on it, and broke off half of his adult front tooth. Later he hung around in my room complaining, “Nonnie and I have everything the same.”

“How is that?” I said, because really their lives are incredibly dissimilar.

“She has a crooked toe,” he moaned, “and I have a crooked toe. She lost her front teeth, and I've lost my front tooth.”

“Well yes,” I said, “you do have those two things the same.” So anyway, I took him to our lovely wonderful dentist yesterday and she glued the tooth back on and we drove away and it came right off, so I guess I'll be taking him back in today, and maybe the next day, and possibly the day after that.

And then we muscled our way through Wegmans, trying to navigate through crowded aisles just as normal people were getting out of work and wanting to pick up a quiet uncomplicated supper. Matt had one cart and Alouicious had the other, and just when I felt like everything might be ok, the Play Place buzzed me because Gladys loves visiting the loo in Wegmans. It's practically her favorite thing in the whole world. She smiled a wide smug smile as I hustled her all the way across the store and back.

It's so fancy, Wegmans, you can buy so many lovely things, but I do shrink back, in my soul, as I walk swiftly and purposefully from the entrance to the play place, children spread out behind me like the lapping remnants of a wave, and feel the stares and the silent counting as I go.

We came home with two already roasted chickens and a big Wegmans pizza and watched the news and football, much to the sorrow of the children who have been binging on Christmas movies and candy for a week. Advent is going to be a real downer for them, when it finally gets here, and they have to do school work and listen to Advent music and stop watching any movies at all.

Anyway, the real substance of this post, and why I started writing at all this morning, is because I also came home to a lovely little box stuffed with lots of carefully bubble wrapped items.

I have long been desiring Kings for my middle atrium. I had a series of strangely painted dowels for a lot of years, and then Andrea Kovac came along, and her soul shuddered, and she made me some shepherds and then Mary and Joseph and then a big glorious Angel of the Lord (all to be photographed later when I manage a minute to run next door) and then she tragically left town to lead a better happier life in a warmer place. But she remembered me in my affliction and sorrow and crafted these and then sent them, which, if you have children, especially small ones, no matter how talented you are, you will know is both difficult to carry out and a hassle–going to the post I mean, no one should have to do it for any reason. It's a true act of love and self sacrifice. So if you are looking for gorgeous nativities and charming baby animal prints, you should just keep her shop open in your browser, just to gaze upon and consider.

The arrival of the Kings means I'll just force myself to pop out to AC Moore and procure them a house, a safe haven as it were. And if I just happen to wander around and look at everything else, and maybe even happen upon a coffee, and sort of very slowly make my way home, well, hopefully God won't judge me too much. Posting this week might continue sparse, what with the dentist, and the well baby visits tomorrow, and the short escape, and all the baking I'm signed up to do. So Happy Thanksgiving! if I don't make it back here before.