you and you alone bring out the gypsy in me

I had Jude to myself, the wonderful “Juders”, the one-little-tooth wonder. He “munched” on a graham cracker while I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the counters from our lunch mess. On the kitchen sound system I played Rod Stewart, but we won’t tell his poppy about that. The third volume of the Great American Songbook series…how can you not love it? And when the cracker was gone, we danced in the kitchen. Of course I led. There we were, the sun on the wood floor, the dishwasher humming along, wet, smushed crackers between us, and Rod Stewart crooning. I am in love.

And when Jude had had as much dancing as a 9 month old little boy can take, I changed his diaper and we sat down in the rocking chair while I crooned him to sleep with more Rod Stewart. I snuggled him close, looking at his pale skin, his tiny, busy fingers, and his fuzzy little head. Will he have curls, too? Will he love the park and the sand and the bugs and the long walks? Will he hate Rod Stewart? When he gets his selective service card, I will lie in wait for the mail man and I will steal it and hide it and pretend it never arrived. I am trying to keep my eyes wide open this time around. If I blink, he will be grown, too, and I can’t let that happen.