February 11, 2016

"White Dog's Gotcha Day is Sunday," YoYoMa reminded me. It was sometime between the very early hour that Steve rises and the civilized time that Yo, Bella, Opal and I usually are prepared to greet the day. "I wanted to talk about this before everyone came in and we had no privacy," he continued.

He was standing on the bed. At first I thought I was dreaming. Yo only comes up on the bed for nail clipping or triage of some sort...in those instances he is lifted up bucking and complaining. He is blind and cannot judge height very well.

But I felt the reality of his weight against my chest as he laid across me... "what are you doing up on the bed?" I asked in a tone that made him stir to move. I put an arm across him. "And how did you get up here?"

"As you always say, momma, never underestimate me. I can put my chin on the top of the bed. That tells me how high up the bed is. And then I can stand on my back legs and put the front up on the blankets. A push with the back legs and voila! Here I am." "But you never did it before." "Sure I have,you just have never seen me practicing. Someday I am going to surprise the smart talk out of Zsofia...but not yet. Anyway, that is not why we are sharing the bed now. About White Dog's celebration..."

We both heard the sounds of the office crew making ready to rejoin us for our good morning ritual. "Later, we will talk more," YoYoMa mumbled, "but think lamb shanks, coconut yogurt shakes, the baby pictures and arrival story, and entertainment provided by her brothers and sisters."

The others were walking down the hallway toward us. I kissed his nose.

"Um. Momma?" "Yes, Baby Boy?" "Down is harder, can you help?" I scooted him back to his sleeping spot on the floor next to Steve's side of the bed. When the others came in I was adjusting the covers.

"Good morning!"