Inevitable Bubbles

There are lots of inevitables in life that we all have just, well, come to expect. Like the fact that Curious George will absolutely always and without fail get into some sort of trouble when the man-in-the-yellow-hat leaves him alone. Remember watching Southpark? Yeah, Kenny always died. The same as how every episode of the Waltons ended with ‘Goodnight John Boy’, and the same as the Cookie Monster always ate too many cookies. (By the way, I’m fairly certain that I WAS Cookie Monster in a far off life, not so far away). When we blow soapy water through a ring, we all have come to expect those magical fleeting bubbles that never go out of style, and for which we never really get to old to enjoy.

Predictability can be awesome. Predictability can be as warm and snuggly as the baby blanket with satin lining that some of us used to carry around until we were old enough to become aware of germs, at which point we finally stopped sucking the satin.

What? That was just me?

Anyway, predictability can be great, BUT predictability can also be a great big ginormous dinosaur of a thorn right in our sides. Like when an ex-husband has been struggling with an addiction for the last 8 years, and you know that no matter how much he loves his son, he’s probably not going to stay clean long enough to teach his son the sort of stability and security that he needs. And I’ve come to learn that no matter how many times Ethan’s dad tries, I’m still going to always end up being the ONLY responsible and dependable parent my youngest will know. His dad hasn’t had a job in three years, and has told more stories than are in the Bible over the last 8 years of his addiction. I can’t even listen anymore. And the older Ethan gets, the more difficult it becomes for me to keep all of this a secret.

But I will because I love my child. The longer I can protect him from the ugly parts of life, the better.

So, while today was like hundreds of other days, with the ‘dad’ not calling or picking him up as planned, and with Ethan having multiple meltdowns leading to me having multiple meltdowns, it could always be worse. Much worse.

And those are my thoughts, as I watch Ethan and his best pal Jackson relishing in the simplicity of bubbles, those inevitable, beautiful, dependable, timeless wonders. Like childhood, they are fleeting, but worthy of pause and gratitude. Goodnight John Boy.;) Namaste.

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