We had planned to take the train into New York or up to Hoboken: "Yes, 'strain," Charlie had said yesterday when Jim asked him. Rain and a lingering cold kept us home.
It was a quiet day of small happenings.
I asked Charlie to get his own shirt; he opened each of his drawers until he found his "Wiggles s'irt" and pulled it on the right way over his head.
"G'ove. I want green g'ove." Charlie was wearing the one holey glove and threw a bunch of coats and pillows on the floor looking for the second (which had disappeared last night). He took the black one I proffered without a fuss and accompanied Jim to the grocery store and to Home Depot.
"Burger. Give fries." Charlie poked at some potatoes on the counter and hovered beside me as I cut them up. "A little oil?" "Oy-oh." "Salt?" "Ssalt." "And then a swim?" "Swiimm-inng, yes!"
At the pool, some other kids were having a birthday party and a concerned look passed over Charlie's face when we explained that it was someone else's party. Jim got in first and semi-pulled in a grinning Charlie, who immediately did a quick lap before twisting a swim noodle around himself and bobbing and kicking around.
At a clothing store, Charlie tapped on the piles of shirts and sweaters and at a mannequin's hand, and stood quietly looking out the window at the rainy street. When I said "over here" or "let's find Dad," he quickly came.
I put a pot of rice noodles onto boil. Charlie requested "peas" and poured them carefully into the pot.
"How about some Chuck Berry?" Jim asked and put in a CD. Charlie bounced and swayed brightly on the couch and joined in the chorus of "Havana Moon." He pulled aside the front window blind and, looking at us with very round eyes, said "Schoolbus." "Yes, tomorrow morning." "Schoolbus. Schoolbus!" "It'll come tomorrow, sweetie." "Hey Charlie, who drives the schoolbus--Rukia?" asked Jim. "Roo-kee-yah," said Charlie.
It was a quiet day connecting with Charlie.