kiwords

Sometimes Raphael will come upon Clay and me, kissing. He laughs and wriggles between us, protesting loudly,

“NO KISSING! TOO MUCH KISSING!”

We scoop him up and hug him between us, showering him with kisses from both sides, and tell him he’s the meat in our love sandwich. He writhes and laughs and declares a complete moratorium on any and all kissing.

He rarely gets his way. We’re a kissy bunch.

Today Clay and I were standing in the kitchen, talking. Yes, we do just TALK sometimes. MOST of the time, I state defensively.

Raphael walked up to us and extended one hand in our direction, palm up, with an expression of magnanimity.

“I have GOOD NEWS,” he intoned. We looked at him and waited. He smiled and said,

“YOU can KISS! ALL DAY.”

“Really?” Clay said.

“Yes. ALL DAY. And FOREVER.”

“Wow, thanks, buddy.”

“Yeah, honey, thanks,” I chimed in. Raphael nodded graciously and turned to go. As he walked out of the kitchen, he shook his head and muttered happily to himself,

“That was just beautiful.”

I have to concur.