Timelessness of Bubbles

The boy was over at the house visiting recently. He waltzed in wearing his LeBron James jersey (upon questioning, he revealed that he was a bit testy about the recent Heat loss in the national championship series; the loss still stung). We tended to some farm animals and looked at some tadpoles. We tried to find a radio station with "dancing music," argued about whether the boy would ever have the need to learn the two-step and were restless about what to do next.

I mentioned that we had some bubbles - he whooped with joy (this is the boy who just turned 10 and is too cool for many things now, but bubbles have apparently not yet made that cut).


This is the boy probably 7 years ago blowing bubbles. I shared this photo in his birthday post, but I thought it was worth sharing again for comparison to the new photos below.


Bubbles apparently elicit the same expression today as they did for the boy as a toddler.


The challenge he set forth for himself with the bubbles was different, however (the boy is always coming up with various challenges to make everyday activities more interesting; being a boy, he cannot just blow bubbles - he has to turn it into a hunting or gathering exercise).

Previously, he had been thrilled with toddling around trying to pop all of the bubbles. This time, he was trying to use one dip of the wand for as long as possible, conserving bubble fluid. This made it imperative that he chase down and recapture the biggest bubbles that came out of the wand and then blow new bubbles from the recaptured one and so on and so forth until the original aliquot of bubble fluid was spent.


He was especially pleased when he was able to catch the bubbles back onto both sides of the wand.

The Beagle watched quietly, oblivious to the invented challenge, his nearness to King James and the bubbles


Then we ate supper. Dessert (or maybe the main course) consisted of gummy worms which the boy ate quite politely with a fork.

Peace man

One decade ago today, a baby boy was born. I went (either that very day or the next (it was, after all, 10 years ago)) to the hospital to meet him. Someone handed him to me. And I held the bundle of blankets that held him. I looked into his blue eyes and saw something remarkable.

We became good friends, this boy and me. I would build him towers from blocks. He would gleefully knock them down. I would blow him bubbles. He would run around popping them and shriek with joy.

He called me Gaga then (this was way before Lady).

He was a boy's boy, this one. He was happy in mud puddles and piles of leaves and racing up and down hills. He loved his bike, Star Wars and Legos. He still loves his bike, Star Wars and Legos. I watched him develop and grow out of a favorite shirt. I helped him practice hitting, throwing and catching a baseball. I tried to show him that things can be fun even if you aren't the very best. But that it's important to try your hardest. Life can be confusing, can't it?

It's less confusing when you can make a child's eyes smile.

This photo is one of my very favorite photos in this world. It feels to me like a perfect, peaceful moment.

It is the boy again, being very much a boy. At the zoo, quietly enjoying the mist tent on a hot summer's day. A day on which the boy was so excited to see the elephants and big cats that I had to give him a piece of gum to chew to give him something else to think about.

At some point, I moved far away from the boy (geographically speaking). I missed him, and he missed Maximilian. He came to visit a couple of times. We had fun at the beach and in boats on a gator hunt that would have made Mr. Dundee envious.

When I would go home to visit, the boy and I would go on adventures together. I took him birding. I put him in my kayak and gave him the paddle. I let him walk on the ice of a frozen pond. I put up a tent in the backyard, and we camped. We discussed the various methods of bear protection. We discussed the potential for one super hero to triumph over another. We went to museums. We went canoeing with my mother and two dogs (and no, we did not tip over). I watched the boy become a big brother - twice. I watched him play baseball and basketball and show his cattle.

Last year, my sister had a child, and I officially became an aunt. The boy isn't exactly thrilled with my new official aunt status. But he will always have me to be there for him.

How can it be that it has been 10 years since I held that blanket? I do not honestly know. The boy is only five or maybe six. I am missing some years in there somewhere. But I think he can account for them all.

I can't wait for all of the new things we can discover together. And very few things in this life are better than watching the boy see and enjoy and learn about bugs and birds and games and moving water.


On your 10th birthday, and every day, for you a thousand times over - peace man...

Note to the boy's mother and father: If this will embarrass the boy, please don't show him. Just give him a hug for me. I don't want any eye-rolling on my account (because we all know that the stage of eye-rolling seriousness begins in earnest when a person turns 10 years old - but we will all love him anyway).