That must be quite an angle of Rhett

[✦]

(GMM #1329.1)

Clumsy Rhett

NO

rhink mornings… a visual

• barefoot dog walks

• racing to get the mail with, once again, bare feet

• toothpaste kisses vs morning breath kisses vs sticky breakfast kisses

• rhett coercing link to shower with him wink wonk (link isn’t a morning showerer, as we all know)

• dancin’ around to the radio in socked feet while they cook eggs and too-sweet french toast

• oh yeah. rhett’s prone to fairly messy pillow hair (which link thinks is super hot)

• link doesn’t bother wearing his glasses and rhett loves just resting their cheeks together and humming

• when rhett first wakes up he’s surprisingly super clingy and warm and affectionate, speaking sandpaper-roughed nothings, calling link baby boy, kissing him all slow bc he’s too sleep-heavy to do much else, all that good stuff

• everyone was waiting for me to say this………… morning sex

• coUGHcough anyway. the two of them sitting outside on the porch swing, tea and coffee in laps, rhett rubbing slow circles on the inside of link’s elbow, watching the neighborhood yawn to life along with them

• link letting the dogs out of their cages, rhett pouring their food

• hugging in front of the window as the sun rises, sighing at the feeling of warm bare skin, unmoving, tied up in each other. link’s temple against rhett’s heartbeat.

• holding hands at the breakfast table, rubbin’ thumbs and palms, makin’ stupid jokes, heart eyes for DAYS

• best friends in love, grateful for warm skin and heavy mugs, lips that smile and kiss and sing, fingers that embrace torsos and pluck guitar strings and brush hair from eyes, in love with their lives, in love with each other on slow saturdays and fast weekdays alike. in love in their mornings.

rhett eating dirt: it’s not that bad. Earthy

link eating a banana, in tears: i can’t do this

(****)

“Listen, we’re quitting everything if this works on the first try.”

(****)

(****)

I love his hands..

Dear Jack,

You’ve known these voices since you were six weeks old.  When your parents did not know how to make you happy, their conversations soothed you.  You broke out some of your earliest dance moves to their songs.  And now, you laugh some of your most infectious belly laughs at their new series.  You don’t understand the nuances, or really any of the jokes, because you’re only 18 months old. But you’ve gotten pretty good at sensing when to time a laugh, and you like to show that skill off with these guys because you’re precious and a ham.  You take after your mother.

Speaking of your mother, she endured a lot to make this happen.  First, long, long ago, she had to call that psychic hotline to ask if a Mythical Tour was in the future (she had the name of the tour wrong, but it was close enough for Ms. Kleo (no relation) to estimate a year).  Then, (this part is not actually a joke) she had to schedule your arrival for May 2016 (nailed it!).  This obviously led to giving birth to you, which frankly was kind of a hassle (you know what you did).  After that, she had to make a mythical friend (’sup, Christy) so that she would not be alone in Chicago for a weekend, and as a definitely-not-planned bonus, they could split the cost of a hotel.  So that little social project was 10 months in the making. Your mother later stood in line—in the cold—for a long time to get into the theatre (which, honestly, was more for her than it was for you).  And when she finally met her two favorite entertainers, did she talk about herself?  Tell them what an inspiration they’ve been for her?  How their work has pushed her out of a rut and back into creative motion? Nope.  She talked about you, and in a striking moment of clarity, even thought to ask for a message for you.  Your father, who has been a fan for almost as long as she, didn’t even get mentioned.  

But, dear Jack, please. If you won’t do it for your mother, do it for them:

Go to sleep.

Love,

Mama