So I'm having a fresh nectarine after dinner, and St. John comes into the kitchen, having just woken from a nap. He sits down very properly beside the refrigerator, looks around, yawns, blinks... blinks again... and falls right back to sleep.
My mom and I laugh at him and say for the dozenth time today what a sweetheart he is. "Yes," I assure her, "he really is a special little guy, and he's starting to mellow out now that he's a grownup."
And my mom says, "That's true, he's more affectionate than ever, and so gentle and quiet. And he's so good in bed, too."
Well, down goes the nectarine pit. Coughing, I raise my eyebrows at Mom, and she starts backpedaling frantically: "I mean he's so good! He never wakes me up!"
My eyebrows go up another notch. "Oh? Tell me more!"
"No! No, I mean -- oh hell," she says, giving in to laughter. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"
And the answer is noooo! No, Mom, we'll be tellin' that one on ya for years...
My mom and I laugh at him and say for the dozenth time today what a sweetheart he is. "Yes," I assure her, "he really is a special little guy, and he's starting to mellow out now that he's a grownup."
And my mom says, "That's true, he's more affectionate than ever, and so gentle and quiet. And he's so good in bed, too."
Well, down goes the nectarine pit. Coughing, I raise my eyebrows at Mom, and she starts backpedaling frantically: "I mean he's so good! He never wakes me up!"
My eyebrows go up another notch. "Oh? Tell me more!"
"No! No, I mean -- oh hell," she says, giving in to laughter. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"
And the answer is noooo! No, Mom, we'll be tellin' that one on ya for years...