These are Mark’s stuffed animals that I found arranged in a literal dog pile. Evidently “Snowball” was victorious.
I was thinking the other night that I wanted to remember a few things about Mark.
I want to remember how Mark likes to sit close to me when we read scriptures.
I want to remember how he has to walk around the room in order to memorize or recite a poem.
He has managed to wear shorts all winter, changing into pants only when he has to go outside or run an errand with me. In past winters, I have hidden his shorts. Arizona habits die hard, I guess.
The other day he and Timothy were together in his room. Timothy, always the entertainer, was making him laugh. Mark has a fabulous laugh. I stood hidden outside the door and held a recorder in the doorway to capture some of it.
Mark has had an obsession with swearwords, discovering what they really are without saying them. He asks me about them with raised eyebrows, wide eyes, and first letters only. He is disappointed that they swear in the Harry Potter books.
Since he’s decided that swearing is abhorrent, he has come up with his own words to call things when he is frustrated. Each of his contrived words has at least 3 syllables.
He’s asked me not to share his quotes on the blog anymore. I still write them down, though. Richard and I roll around in stifled laughter when I share them at night. We laugh because he is clever and frank and because he brings us joy.
When he gets a little naughty, I remind him that life is not a Calvin and Hobbes comic. He mourns that our winter yard is nothing like Calvin and Hobbes’s snow and yard.
People tell him often that his hair will darken, but this idea brings him no comfort. He likes his hair just the color it is. When we get home from church, after changing out of his suit, he messes up his hair and arranges so that it spikes upward. In his shorts and messy hair, he breathes a sigh of contentment.
He stops to play the piano every few hours, all day long. He is flying through piano books. He tells me that his piano teacher reminds him of Cleopatra. This is not an insult.
I guess that’s how I will end. Mark has always been content to do things his own way. I enjoy watching his life, long legs dangling from the tree in the backyard, climbing the fence, doing his jobs diligently, and hopping around on the carpet as he plays a video game. He is my companion all day and he makes me so happy.