WINGS

This is not a jump shot

toward the basketball hoop.

It’s a jump shot I’ve been dodging for weeks—while making dinner, eating dinner, washing dishes, watching TV, and generally living in R-house—as R-boy has been attempting to reach the ceiling with his hand.

Mom, do you think I can touch it?
I can.
How much do you want to bet?
How close am I to touching it?
Wait, that one didn’t count.
Watch again!
Oh man, that was close – did you see that?!
How come I can touch the ceiling at Daddy’s house but not here?
There’s just not enough room to get a running start.
Wait, watch this.
This is it.
Watch.
How much will you pay me if I make it?

Me: How much will I pay you???

R-boy: Yeah! This will be a big deal! How much will you pay me?

Me: Ummm. How about a dollar?

R-boy: A dollar? No. How about $1.29.

Me: ??

Something like this:

Well, guess what?

Tonight, I am $1.29 poorer.

R-boy reached his goal. With the tips of his fingers.

And while he bounced around with pure joy and said, “This is the best day of my life,” I thought, ok, wow.

Wait? It is?

Until he started playing this perfect song.

And then he checked me to see if I was crying.

xo

__

P.S. R-boy had already introduced me to the original version of that song, which chokes me up for all kinds of different reasons…