arcēology

To prove that Kyle and I are crazy, let me tell you the story of Wednesday night.

A community “Movies in the Park” event was showing Princess Bride, one of Kyle’s very favorite movies. Aha, we shall go to this, we say. Wait, Owen goes to bed at sundown, we lament. Well, we will take him in the name of “adventure”! … we exclaim.

So we rush home from work, feed Owen some applesauce that he doesn’t eat, clothe him in frog pajamas and head out to spend a night with mosquitoes. When we reach downtown, we grab burritos at our favorite downtown eatery and make our way to the movie area to get settled. We spread out our blanket and watch Owen giggle and coo on his belly. We notice how the bridge is actually pretty beautiful, all lit up and crossing over the river. We’re glad it’s a peaceful night and that we’re blessed enough to enjoy simple nice things, like picnics at night.

As expected, at about 9pm and a half-hour into the movie, Owen hits his fussy spot and can’t fall asleep. At the very first sound of a cry, I take him away from the moviewatchers and hope he falls asleep against my chest like he used to when he was little. He doesn’t fall asleep and instead whips his head from side to side in curiosity to keep up with every passerby.

Kyle grabs our blanket and Ergo and my bottomless bag and meets us while reciting a line about a man with six fingers on one hand. We walk back to the car, and Owen grabs my arm. He grabs my arm. And then we go home, placing our sleepy boy who now clutches my arm like I’m someone special into his crib.

How lucky am I?