March 8, 2003 - Saturday
I was moving some firewood into the garage this morning. It was to be next year's heat, but this winter has gone on too long. Harry was outside playing in the lingering snow with his plastic shovels and his new $.60 spade from the former Zany Brainy, while Jeremy, with cold, rested on the sofa with his mother, ailing with food poisoning. It didn't take Harry too long to get interested in the wood. I was using a new plastic sled I finally bought for this purpose and to pull the boys around in and he came out to the wood pile to, at first, watch, then to help. That mostly meant moving the pieces of wood from the pile and onto the nearby sled. The tougher part was moving them from the sled into the garage since that was a greater distance of carrying wood by hand. Still, Harry helped with that, too, one log at a time at his own initiation. I suppose if his mother was out watching as she has been before he might not have done it, but this morning it was just him and me and Harry seemed to like the idea of us working together. It was the kind of thing you'd just imagine fathers and sons doing together. How could I argue with that?

After dinner this evening, all four of us were all lying on the floor playing although mommy was ailing and not very happy. In one amazing moment that must be somewhere in the hopeful vision of every expecting parent, Harry asked if she was feeling bad. When she said 'yes' he, completely on his own motivation, crawled over and give her a kiss on the cheek and a hug and then a few more kisses, sending an otherwise uncomfortable feeling mommy into an emotional wash. How could she argue with that?


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