Yesterday’s visit with Jonah was awesome!
We all expected him to be thrown off by his temporary move, just the night before, to a different house for 4 or 5 months while Birch House is renovated. But the caregivers know how to prepare the kids. Staff took the children to the new house lots and explained over and over again about the move.
But you never know what’ll set Jonah off, and this kind of change seemed likely to have made him angry.
To be honest I really didn’t want to drive down at all. After losing Sugar and spending a couple days in an “off” place myself, I hesitated to risk another bad Saturday, another violent visit. My mom would have gone anyway; nothing keeps her from seeing Jonah, but she’s more selfless than I. In the end I went with her; I missed Boo awful too. Plus, it was such beautiful weather so I decided to spin the wheel and hope it landed on GOOD DAY.
It did. Jonah was happy and excited. He and I sat in the back of the car on the way to Andy’s apartment, and he sang with me, played with his hands, and looked up front at daddy and grandma.
But he didn’t ask for “daddy in backseat” like usual. He was content with mama.
We played where is thumbkin and I taught him how to be The Fonz.
Jonah wanted to kiss me lots.
He’s got this little game he plays where he asks “kiss? kiss?” and we move our faces in slowly toward one another until, at the very last moment, he smiles and I end up kissing his teeth.
“Yuck!” I say with an exaggerated icky-face, which sends Jonah into hysterical giggles.
“Kiss? Kiss?” he asks again. “Oh—kay”, I say slowly, “but only if it’s a real kiss.” So he arranges his face into mock-seriousness as we prepare to move in for our kiss but he just can’t help it — the sides of his mouth twitch in suppressed laughter and he and I both start giggling.
Then holding daddy’s hand and walking back down to see Grandma again…
In the car he wanted “more kisses?” and it made my heart fill up with something usually not present anymore.
“Kiss hand?” he asked, holding his arm out –so I took his little hand and kissed it.
“Kiss cheek?” he wanted next, so I leaned over and soundly kissed his soft-child cheek.
“Kiss quiet?” he then said, holding out his pointer finger. I took his finger to my lips and kissed it, tilting my head at him inquiringly.
He held the finger up to his lips: “sshhhh.”
Oh! “Yes, Boo,” I whispered, smiling, admiring the clever way his mind constructs language, the way he is a new kind of lexicographer. “Kiss quiet.”