Bucket Fillers: Bruises/ Dursley Renditions

I have two purple bruises over each of my hip bones this morning. The culprit: yoga. My brother Jack decided to come with my mom and I yesterday. His bendy-ness is surprising and impressive given that a) it was his first yoga class ever and b) he is a swimmer and a runner. We were in bow pose and I tried a variation meant to open up the shoulders by grabbing the left ankle with the right hand and vice versa, crossing at the wrists. This was a very pretzelish position and, though it felt good, it was difficult to get in and out of. I glanced at Jack in the mirror. When he saw my gaze he promptly went cross-eyed, which caused me to giggle, and then made a face that I wish I could describe or even replicate but was so funny in the moment I could help but chuckle, which turned it to a full-on belly laugh, which promptly turned into a mix of laughter (Jack was laughing and everyone in class was looking at us by this point too) and a mix of crying and saying owwwwww-ch! because while I was laughing I was balancing my whole body weight on the edges of my hip bones and I couldn't undo my hands and feet quickly enough. Hence, the bruises.

Oh well... they were totally worth that face. Hilarious.

I'm making an effort this summer to make reading special for Sam. He likes reading, but he doesn't love it and he would choose a book he's already read (ahem, Captain Underpants. The Hunger Games.) over something new (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone). We started the book a while ago, sometime over the winter but it is at or even above his frustration level (reading with 90% accuracy at a reasonable rate) so we started over and are switching who reads at every other page. Yesterday, we went to Sweet Frog, had frozen yogurt (he paid for his own, I was so proud.) and read in the corner of the store. The things is: he is a great and...animated... reader. When good ol' J.K. uses shouty capitals to portray Uncle Vernon bullying Harry and attempting to stop him from getting his letter from Hogwarts, Sam deepens his voice and shouts. It's brilliant. Also, you should here my Aunt Petunia voice. It's pretty entertaining.

For these reasons, I wanted us to sit outside. There were no tables, "Okay buddy," I said to Sam, "we can read inside but we're gonna have to turn down the volume." I explained that the other patrons in the store probably wouldn't appreciate our renditions of the Dursleys nearly as much as we did. He agreed.

About twenty minutes into reading, an older man came up to us and said, "I'm sorry, excuse me m'am?"

I looked up and looked around momentarily, confused. I don't think I've ever been m'am-ed by anyone older than myself before. When I finally realized he was talking to me I responded, "yes, sir?," already a little embarrassed. He was going to ask us to stop yelling in fake British accents.

"I just wanted to say: I love this. I want to see more of this in the world. Thank you." Then he left before I could respond.

"What was he talking about?" Sam asked.

"He likes that we're reading together. He thinks it's special."

Sam raised an eyebrow, dubious as to why this moment is precious and says, "Really?"

"Yeah, I think it's pretty cool too."

He shrugged, returned to the page and continued reading.

He may not think it's all that special yet, but when we left he said, "That was fun sissy. We should do it again."

Love, Madelyn