My son, Mr. Boy, spoils me. I really like that about him. Last year, for Mother’s Day, I got a TV. Don’t ask me how many inches ’cause I ain’t one to measure the size of things given to me. All I know is I got one of a fairly nice size that I was jumping up and down about like I’d won it on The Price is Right. When he went to Hilton Head Island this year, he got me a turtle-looking paper weight for Mother’s Day. I know. A big difference but I guess he figured I needed some papers to be held down.
He drives me almost everywhere. If it wouldn’t look so ridiculous, I’d have him lift me to carry me in the house and I think he’d do it if I asked. How in the world can any new fella come into my life and top that, I don’t know. I’d probably settle for him rolling me in on a dolly, if he were an older gentleman. Like, there has to be effort of some sort, you know.
Mr. Boy also cooks great meals for me. When I went to the doctor and saw that some things needed to change in my diet, he got right on it and I felt better than my former self.
This year, for Christmas, Mr. Boy gave me a diamond ring and told me to never take it off, even during bath time. Girlfriend also became Ms. Fiance, only she got hers after graduating The University of Georgia the week before. She got diamond earrings today. You can tell how much Mr. Boy loves me ’cause he picked out a girl like I was at their age. All sweet and shy and shit. I’m still (ahem) like that in subtle and obvious ways, depending on the situation.
Little Totsy spoils me too and what a whipper snapper she is with her little busy self. When she cooks something, she stands over us and asks, “So, how does it taste? Do you like it?” and we’d better say yes. She found an oatmeal raisin cookie recipe on the web and whipped them up for us, along with chocolate chip cookies for Christmas dessert that Ms. Fiance told her how to make. Little Totsy was constantly baking on Christmas eve and Christmas day. “How are they, mommy?” she’d ask before I could let the taste settle in my mouth, with her hand riding her little hip. “Good. So good, Little Totsy,” I replied, like a hostage with a gun to my head. This is how it goes every time she cooks anything. I imagine the young man who ends up with her (very far in the future) is gonna show her some appreciation, whether he wants to or not.
I’ve had a grand time on Christmas, y’all. I hope you have too.