Yesterday afternoon I sat down on the floor to change the baby. As I lingered there, playing with her, Wonderboy came up behind me and leaned against me for a little while. He loves to supervise my baby-tickling. Then he began—oh, it was so sweet!—to gently stroke my hair. For several minutes I sat there enjoying the soft touch of his hand on the back of my head. He was chuckling softly, and I was just melting.
Then he touched my arm, and his fingers were slimy. Startled, I turned to look at him and there he stood with a big happy grin, one hand glistening with goo—and an open jar of Vaseline in the other.
My hair is very shiny today.
The Secret Life of Scott Peterson, and Other Assorted Nonsense
Where the Day Took Us
Back from Butternut Center
The Gift that Keeps on Giving (Back to Me)
We Are in Love