... or at the very least a blueberry scone. It was one of those days. Warm and sunny all over. Tom and Gavin walked down to The Daily Bean for Poppy's muddy cup and Marlene's fresh-baked goodies. Then my two sweets sat on a bench sharing a blueberry scone, hence the Gump reference. Wish I was there. [I was on route to French eatery L'Express on 20th & 3rd in Manhattan for a burger-meets-business lunch with my editor-in-chief.] Gavin had plans to go to Lillian's for the afternoon, but Papa decided to play hookie last minute and hang with Little Dude.
As I caught my train at the Beacon station, Gavin rings me to say "Mama," "Mama," "Mama" ever so sweetly. Mix of desperate and content in his voice. If he had done that six months ago, I would've pulled the emergency lever and jumped off the train to run home. But today's playful plea did not warrant train jumping of any sort. Our guy is growing up. And so am I. The boys proceeded to ride bikes (meaning: Buby lounged in the trolley while Papa labored up and down hills), play in the yard, and meet Erika and Gavin's galpal Lillian for a play date at Sally's Dream.
When my train arrived back in Beacon, I met them at the park and looked on in amazement as Gavin was laughing in the sand box, on the swings, down the slide. Tom left before us, and Buby trotted after him to say "Dada," "Dada," "Dada" ever so sweetly. Mix of desperate and content in his voice. We headed home. As we pulled into the driveway, the neighbor kids (Allison, Ethan, Mark Jr.) ran up to say hi to their buddy Gavin. We all played hoops before dinner. Robyn donated her outdoor b-ball on wheels, which totally made Gavin's day. Dinner. Bath. Dancing. Books. "Brush, Brush, Brush." Sleepy prayers. Buby is out, and Mama sprints to catch the second half of "American Idol" and throw some pig on the barbie while Tom tinkers with the new handlebars for his Sportster. Voted for Jordin Sparks. A nice end to a nice day.
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