Mind the crack.

I interrupt this series detailing our family weirdness to instead detail a few funny things about the Hudson boy that I don't want to forget.

Night before last, we were getting ready for our evening stories. We always congregate in the same configuration: Harper wedged in at the end, just under the lamp, then I am in the middle, then Hudson is curled into me on the other side. (Helena is already in bed at this point. She gets her own story time during which she can comment and point and make animal noises and turn pages backwards if she needs to, all without the protestations of the other two to JUST GET ON WITH IT PLEASE.) Well, Hudson had gotten to the couch first and he and I had snuggled into the opposite corner to look at a book while we waited for Harper to finish brushing her teeth. She came in, surveyed the set-up, and said, "We need to get in our regular place. I do NOT want to sit on the crack." (the crack being the gaping space between the two rather saggy seat cushions) I conceded that we probably did need to move so that I could be closer to the lamp, then I added, "And I don't think Hudson minds the crack--do you buddy?" The reason I assumed this is because we have been sitting together like this for approximately 2 1/2 years now and he has never, not once, complained about the crack. Well. Hudson said, in a rather plaintive tone, "But I DO! I DO mind the crack!! I mind it all the time!!" I told him he needs to speak up regarding such future injustices. And so now we squeeze together very tightly in order to fit on the one cushion. It makes me remember when Hudson was a baby, the way he still melds himself so tightly to my side. He was that kind of baby. So pleasant to hold and snuggle with. He would have been content to be sewn onto me at the start of each day. I forget that when I see how independent he is now.

Saturday we were taking a little drive after going to Cavender's for some long-awaited real cowboy boots for the big kids:
Are my kids the only ones who, when I try to take a picture of them, insist on incorporating stuffed animals and other large toys that almost completely obscure the actual kid who is supposedly the subject of the photo? Anyway, so we got the boots and were on the way home and Hudson says, "I'm going to start doing 'one' like this," and I turn around and he is, with some concentration, isolating his middle finger and holding it in the air. It's one of those times as a parent that you really shouldn't laugh. But I couldn't help it. Then, of course, they all want to know why it's SOO funny to use your tall man to do number one. The husband took over while I stopped with the spasmodic laughing. I did tell him that some cultures use their thumb to denote 'one,' but that no culture that I knew of used their middle finger for that purpose. "Well. I think I am still going to," he decided. We did not go into the other use, so, should you see Hudson waving his middle finger about, please do not take offense.

One last little story. Hudson is always the first kid to wake up, usually between 6:45 and 7. He then plays in his room for a good, long while before he needs anything from us. One morning I could hear his cars and trucks all talking and having a good time. Then one of the cars started behaving in a rather boorish fashion, so I think an army man stepped in and asked him to behave himself. Which the car disregarded and said, "Oh yeah? Well I'm going to BEAT UP GOD!" It was quiet for a moment while the other vehicles and the army man digested this audacious statement. Then the army man said, "You can't beat up God. He doesn't have a body!" and the truck said, "Oh, well, okay!" and there was again harmony. Thank you, catechism cd, for your melodic reminder that "God is a spirit, and He doesn't have a body like man."