Summer love

I was watching Dash twirling his light-saber like a pro earlier, admiring his deft wristwork and wondering what sport, or profession, or professional sport, we could get him into to make use of this. I felt like I'd definitely seen the movements before somewhere.

Actually, I think it's Tom Cruise in Cockail. He has a great future ahead of him as a celebrity bartender.

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Mabel's boyfriend across the road is going to Maine for the summer on Thursday. They will both be heartbroken. She ran over to his house to play this morning, which I thought was a good thing because she and Dash had been up since six, it was raining, I was baking bread, and despite too much TV, the bickering was reaching epic proportions. I saw her over the road and into the house, where she immediately jumped into bed with her BFF.  

Five minutes later, they were back here, where they played happily together until the friend wanted to get something from his house. She went with him, and I watched them toil up the wet grass to his front door in their bare feet (urchins! where are their mothers?) to make sure they were safely at their destination.

Another little while passed, until I heard voices outside. Mabel was parading down the street wearing her friend's little brother's lion costume from last Halloween, doing her best roars for the mailman. Her swain was hot on her tail, of course.

Later on, his mum came to retreive him, and he had to be pried bodily from the house. "Take my hand!" he wailed pitifully at Mabel, who of course was happy to comply.

After naptime (for somebody somewhere, perhaps; not for anyone in this story except the little brother who'd had his lion costume purloined - Mabel is like the opposite of a very thoughtful houseguest; she never leaves without taking something with her) and a trip to Target, the star-crossed lovers were playing together once more. They snuck into our house, but his mum came to get him, again. His granny is visiting, and would probably like to see her grandson from a closer angle now and then.

He went home. Mabel followed. I followed Mabel. They crawled under the table and held on for dear life. If they'd had a pair of handcuffs they would have chained themselves together. "See you tomorrow," I said cheerfully as I extracted her, shrieking, and closed the heavy front door decisively behind me. Ten seconds later he was out again. Mabel jumped on her bike. He took the big plastic car. (Not the best getaway vehicle, perhaps.) Eventually his mother left the house with everything except her elder son, put him into the stroller, and they went on their way, a small head looking back, one arm still extended. "Take my hand!"

It's all very Last of the Mohicans. "I will find youuuuuuuu." Daniel Day Lewis eat your heart out, I'd say.