I've said before, that my boys don't care much for planned "dates." They don't like splitting up. That is, of course, unless it is their own idea.
A Date With My Oldest
There was going to be a lecture in town, put on by a local entomology group, about moths and other nighttime bugs. My younger two had no interest whatsoever, but my young lepidopterist/lepidopterologist was all over it.
Our night, in a word? Refreshing.
It was supremely refreshing to drive with only one boy in the car – to actually get to talk, for a long period of time, with just him.
We learned that traffic has its benefits.
It was refreshing to walk in the gardens at dusk, just after a rain and hold hands, and just be in the quiet, together.
We learned that rain makes a garden all twinkly magical.
It was refreshing to watch my man in his element – which just so happens to be a room full of white haired ladies and gents who love bugs. Little old ladies filled him up on banana bread and gave him cuttings from their butterfly attracting plants. Little old men filled him up with stories of strange and wonderful bugs.
We learned that you can find friends in the strangest places.
It was refreshing to walk out to the lily pad pond in the dark with the spry old groundskeeper who grows key lime trees in his backyard.
He let us scoop up some tadpoles to take home, and he told us that when the frogs stop singing it's because a snake is near. He twinkled ever so slightly when the croaking grew silent and my boy shuddered.
We learned that being outdoors at night gives you goosebumps in the most delicious kind of way.
On the way home we put the windows down and turned the radio up and sang our hearts out, and I had to laugh.
When I was a girl, dreaming up my perfect date with Prince Charming, I never imagined it would be like this.