I didn’t have advent calendars growing up. It’s not like I had a deprived childhood; it just wasn’t a tradition for us. But Moonie spotted one that had cute little teddy bears and he begged and begged and begged for it.
Last night was the first night of December, so Moonie excitedly opened the little door marked “1,” holding his little breath in anticipation.
Moonie: “Why did the turkey get in trouble?”
You: “Why?”
Moonie: “He used FOWL language!”
Moonie: “Why was the Thanksgiving soup so expensive?”
You: “Why?”
Moonie: “It had 24 carrots!”
Moonie: “Why did the turkey join the band?”
You: “Why?”
Moonie: “‘Cause he had drumsticks!”
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Oh boy! It’s Halloween!
That’s Moonie’s FAVORITE holiday!
Just like Christmas is and Easter is and Labor Day is and….
Well, anyway, he’s been pretty excited about telling the kitty this joke.
Moonie: “Why didn’t the skeleton go to the dance?”
Kitty: (yawn)
Moonie: “Because he had no BODY to go with!” (rolling and kicking his little legs in laughter)
Kitty: zzzz
He’s also been excited about dressing up, and he kept disappearing into his little Moonie workshop, where he whistled as he worked with what sounded suspiciously like hammers and saws.
He first appeared as Sherlock Holmes.
But when I couldn’t take him shouting, “ELEMENTARY, DEAR WATSON!” every three minutes, I asked if he had another costume in mind. He brightened up and disappeared again.
I needed to pee and realized something. “Moonie, did you take all the toilet paper?”
He appeared smiling.
“What do parents dress up as for Halloween?” he asked.
“Really, Moonie? You needed three whole rolls of toilet paper for that?”
“MUMMIES!” he shouted, hooting in laughter.
I asked him to change out of his outfit, but he walked back in while he was about halfway there, now looking like this.
“What did Caesar say to Cleopatra?” he asked.
“What, Moonie,” I sighed.
“Toga-ether we can rule the world!” he shouted.
“Toilet paper,” I reminded him, tapping my foot.
Finally, he emerged from his workshop with a suitable outfit.
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Last night, as I’m wont to do at each holiday, I was watching a Charlie Brown special. But it was pretty hard to see the TV, as Moonie’s spiky pink head was blocking most of the screen.
He’d never seen “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,” and he enjoyed every minute. Especially as he’s spent the past few weeks picking out his own great pumpkin.
It was quite a process.
But he eventually got there. He liked this one best because it was a little bit heart-shaped, and Moonies are full of love.
I don’t know when Moonie’s birthday is. But when he found out that people celebrate birthdays with cake, he insisted that EVERY day was his birthday.
We compromised; first, he can celebrate each April 25th as “Gotcha Day,” as it’s the day I found and adopted him from an antique store, with his very own Moonie cake. Second, he can share cake with people when they celebrate their birthdays throughout the year. He readily accepted.
Um, Moonie, I said SHARE the cake. You look a little like you want to do more than that.
Moonie?
“I’m just looking, Mama!”
Oh, OK.
(I hear a soft thud, and the box holding the birthday cake quivers.)
“Moonie? What was that? Did – did you just fall into the cake?”
(slurping noises)
“Moonie?”
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Uh oh. Moonie has discovered July 4th – including the fact that people light off fireworks in celebration. Now he’s asking for his very own fireworks.
Let’s all hope he still has his teeny little troll toes and fingers after tonight, ‘k?
I’m not a fan of war – I wish there were far less painful and destructive and expensive ways to maintain peace – but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of, or grateful to, those who serve our country and those who make sacrifices to keep Moonie & me safe. My father’s father was a lifelong pilot for the Navy, one of the last non-commissioned officers in history to fly in the military, and eventually retired as a lieutenant JG. My Da and his siblings grew up as military brats, with war more of a reality than it has been to me in my lifetime. My mother’s stepfather was a captain in the Marine Corps, serving in both World War II and Vietnam, and a Purple Heart recipient. When I was little I remember how proud he was of the faded, fuzzy anchor tattoos on his forearms, like Popeye, and the case he kept full of flags, articles and medals. Both of them passed on years ago, so Moonie never got to meet them, but he joined me today in thinking of them and the many soldiers and heroes like them.
I hadn’t heard of Red Nose Day, which is apparently an annual fundraiser where comics use entertainment to raise money for those in poverty. It sounded like a decent cause, so Moonie and I kicked in a bit to the campaign at a local pharmacy, whose cashier sported a red felt mustache and red bow tie, and she gave him this swell red nose sticker to wear for Red Nose Day. Oh BOY! He can’t wait to put it on!
Here goes–Oh.
Oh, Moonie.
I think it’s maybe a little big for you, buddy.
Last night Moonie and I attended the commencement exercises for the Community College of Rhode Island, which is wrapping up its 50th anniversary celebration. The annual commencement ceremony is basically a holiday, with joyful anticipation building throughout the day, people looking for help with affixing hoods to their gowns, and bagpipe players practicing in the hallway, so Moonie was all but trembling with excitement even before the procession.
Moonie was particularly enthralled with the shiny bunches of balloons, all ready for the celebration. “Balloons!” he squealed when he noticed the display.
“Those are for the graduates,” I whispered.
“Balloons,” he whispered back sadly.
What a sweetie! Moonie made me Mother’s Day breakfast in bed.
Except I wasn’t in bed at the time. And it was less breakfast than a little bowl of jelly beans. And he kept the purple one for himself.
But let’s cut the little guy some slack. He can’t reach the fridge or stove or oven. And it’s the thought that counts, right?
He’s full of sugary-sweet wishes for everyone and their mothers, whether their moms are here or in their hearts.
moonieandme 