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A
warm sunny Sunday morning is a glorious thing. It's redolent of
past summer memories and full of promise that this day might,
in time, become one of those memories.
Probably
once a month I make pancakes for Sunday breakfast, and we have
them with butter, maple syrup and coffee. Matthew loves pancakes,
and he stands up on a chair at the bench helping me make them.
Once he knows we're having them, he bugs us and bugs us until
the first pieces are on his plates and he's shovelling them into
his mouth, fingers all buttersyrupsticky. I make the batter and
then leave it to stand while I take Matthew down the road to buy
the Sunday paper and a takeaway latte for me and Deb. As we're
cooking and eating I read the Sports section of the paper. It's
taken, ohhhhh, a number of years, but I've finally trained Deb
into allowing me to read the Sports section on a Sunday at the
table!
We
went out later in the morning and walked around Oriental Bay.
It's a lovely bay on the harbour, with big wide footpaths, and
trees and cyclists and families and joggers all promenading along.
We bought Matthew a tricycle a little while ago, and it's got
a pole you can attach to the back to push him along with. He had
a ball, riding along with me pushing just enough to keep him going.
He weaved all over the footpath, seeing something that interested
him and turning his head to follow it, oblivious to the oncoming
people who all gently moved out of his way. Deb and I talked and
strolled and watched people. We're wondering what to do next year.
A possibility is a trip to the States to see her family. It'd
be cool to go for a month or so, and have the chance to see some
of the country. Deb had an idea of driving around New England
and Novia Scotia and Newfoundland. Me, I just want to see Maine
in the Summer. I've only ever been (three times in all) in the
Autumn and Winter — I don't believe Maine is ever actually
warm and sunny!
Deb
walked down to the shops this evening while I bathed Matthew and
put him to bed. We've started, just in the past few weeks, telling
him “Matthew and Max” stories, Max being his first friend.
They've just made-up stories, full of adventures that boys of
his age seem to like. You know, driving cars, going to the zoo,
driving buses, driving trains, climbing ladders, driving aeroplanes,
going into tunnels, driving dump trucks … you start to sense
a pattern here?
Tonight's
Matthew and Max story saw the intrepid two board a big ship that
had sailed down the harbour just below our house — one had
done that today. They walked down to the ship and climbed aboard
and the Captain let them stay as he took the ship out into the
harbour, towed by the two tug boats Kupe and Toia. Matthew knows
both of the tug boats names. Then they saw Granddad's ship coming
in the opposite direction, so the Captain slowed down and Matthew
and Max climbed off their ship and onto Granddad's, and he took
them back into Wellington where Nana was waiting for them and
took them home for dinner.
Matthew
listens with rapt attention to these stories, as he lies back
drinking his bottle of milk. His eyes grow wide and you can see
him thinking about what might happen next.
It's
a neat way to wind down a day.
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