I got some bad news on Thursday and was pretty mopey that night. Moonie tried telling me his favorite knock-knock jokes and even cuddled up into the crook of my arm, but sometimes even Moonie doesn’t chase away the blues.
Then his face brightened. “You know what we need?”
“What?” I asked.
“Sad cookies!” Moonie shouted.
“What are sad cookies?” I asked, picturing upside-down happy face cookies.
“Cookies that you bake when you’re sad! And then you eat ’em. And then you’re not sad anymore!”
Hey, it couldn’t hurt. Especially as he hopped to the measuring and mixing and preheating.
Soon, he was flipping the first batch onto a cooling rack to dry.
“I made them extra happy!” he shouted.
A dozen minutes later, he stood proudly over the second and final batch. “See? No more sads!” he shouted.
Snow in the forecast tonight! Oh boy! It sure is January!
Which probably means that Moonie should think about putting on some pants, but so far he’s been a perfectly climate-adjusted little nudist.
He’s happiest clothing himself in flowers.
But if it’s cute enough, he’ll consider donning the occasional hat.
I wanted to be at a fun bluegrass show last night but was under the weather. I decided a nice quiet bubble bath might help make me feel better and filled the tub, only to hear a little knock on the door.
“Moonie, I’m going to be busy for a while. Go tell the kitty some jokes, OK?”
(muffled little voice in response)
“Moonie, buddy, I can’t hear you through the door.”
In the blink of an eye, he’d opened the door and come in. I can never understand how someone three inches tall can reach doorknobs that are 30 inches tall, but I guess that’s part of the magic of being a troll.
“I said, can I take a bath with you?”
I looked up and there he stood and OH MY GOODNESS.
He was holding his own little Moonie-sized rubber ducky.
Where do they even MAKE Moonie-sized rubber duckies?
Last month, Moonie received a special gift from a friend: balloons! One red and one yellow, or according to Moonie, 1/3 of a rainbow. He ecstatically starting pulling his balloons around wherever he went.
Of course, as many of us have discovered, balloons slowly leak air over time, wrinkling up and decreasing in size until we have no choice to toss them.
Moonie, on the other hand, still thinks his balloons are beautiful, even after he lost their ribbons. He is dragging the saggy little pair everywhere, just as excited about them today as the first time he laid eyes on them.
I don’t want to be the one to burst his bubble (heh), so I guess we’ll just see how little and wrinkly these things can get.
I’ve had some back luck this summer. This time, it was tearing my meniscus, so Moonie came with me to the MRI place and the knee doctor and the pharmacy.
He took my mind off the pain by reading to me from magazines – even if he was looking at them upside-down and not so much reading them as making up stories to go with the pictures.
He also offered to take my blood pressure in the doctor’s office. He hopes mine will be close to his, which apparently fluctuates somewhere between “fifty-eleven over three million and two” and “six billion over seventy-eighty.”
Moonie: “I love you, kitty!”
Kitty: “Why (swat) are (swat) you (swat) still (swat) here?”
Moonie: “Tee hee! That tickles! Let’s hug!”
Kitty (to me): “If you take this thing back where you got it, I’ll let you get a dog.”
Moonie discovered today that when the kitty is hot – and it’s 90 degrees in our apartment – she doesn’t care what he does. Which for him was the perfect opportunity to approach her with a kitty-themed knock-knock joke.
I was home sick the other day, which meant Moonie was home, too.
I kept wondering what that rustling sound was deep in the pantry.
Turns out I totally forgot I had an old bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies back there.
Guess who found them?
He also discovered that the paper sleeves holding the cookies each made a nice little Moonie cave.
He’s asking if we can hook up cable in there.
At some point I ended up with one of those trick puzzles where everything looks alike. In this case, it was a field of baked beans.
It really was hard, and I’m grateful that it was only 100 pieces, as a 1,000-piece puzzle would have been a killer. Frankly, I was overjoyed when Moonie proudly put the 100th and final piece in place.
Mostly so he’d stop singing the “beans, beans, good for your heart” song over and over.
I had to grab some things at the grocery store, and at first Moonie was helpful, helping to pick out cleaning supplies.
But then we turned the corner and he saw CAKES. I thought his little eyes were going to pop out of his head.
“Caaaaaakkkkkeeee….” he whispered reverently. I swear I heard angels singing (or maybe he was just humming to make it sound that way) as he climbed on the shelf and approached the baked goods, basking in their cakey glow.