The M&M Story

B has begun to reveal his true talent. Today, he and I battled over where to put his smoothie. He wanted it on the couch. I wanted it on the table, away from the furniture. After several exchanges, I finally got him to put it on the table, and then he proceeded to dramatically throw himself on the floor and sob. I picked him up to console him and explain once more why the smoothie needed to stay on the table. He threw his head back in emotional sobs, laying his arms and legs all over me as I sat back down on the couch. But as we sat down, Piggy fell to the floor. B immediately stopped his crying monologue and looked on the floor and said, "thhhh??" (which is Piggy in B language). He slid off my lap, picked up Piggy, and went to play with his new megablocks. He's already working on that gold statue.

Last evening, M asked me to draw a picture of Tiger on his Etch-a-Sketch. Brian was the artist in the family and knew how to make most things actually look authentic. I, on the other hand, am all about interpretation. I took a deep breath and began to create something that looked more like an ink blot than Tiger. M: "That doesn't look like Tiger." S: "I know, buddy. I'm sorry. Daddy always does it better." M: "Maybe when we go to heaven, we could take this with us and have Daddy draw Tiger."

Since Brian's homecoming, M comes into my room early in the morning and tells me, "It's time for me to come in bed with you, Mommy." So he goes to get his pink pillow and Tiger and crawls up next to me. Some mornings he tells me he is sad and wants me to hold him. Other mornings he wants me to get up and play. This morning he said, "Mommy, I'm hungry. How about cereal?" A typical request for breakfast, with which I responded, "Sure, and how about a smoothie, too?" M happily agreed and then asked, "After that, can we have dessert?"

Today on the way home from Thanksgiving dinner, M composed a song that went something like this... Jesus, my daddy is in heaven with you. I'm going to heaven, but not yet. Jesus, me, me, me, me, me, Jesususususus. Later that evening, I broke out into song and B looked at me and said, "No." I then chose a different song, and he responded with another, "No." I asked, "you don't want momma to sing?" B emphatically answered "No." I guess he prefers his brother's singing.

Now that a couple of weeks separate my glimpse of heaven, the Maynor blog needs some attention. I'm a bit overwhelmed by this endeavor, as I do not have the gift of pen that my husband had. But there continue to be stories that need to be told, and I'm sure Brian would be very proud of me. (Though he may comment on my use of very, as it is a very bad word.) Brian's entrance into heaven was by far the most glorious, most amazing, most humbling experience I've ever had. Over the last months, the thought of facing death terrified me, and Brian, too. But, in that moment, it felt as though I was standing on this side of heaven, in my earthly, sinful form, saying "Good-bye. Go Home. I'll see you soon," watching the gates of heaven swing open and my Brian, my sweet, brilliant, gentle Brian, fall into the arms of Jesus. I'm sure he was singing hymns with us as he passed from this life to the next. And I bet the first thing he did was dance and run, two things

Jones bees and Princess Originally uploaded by Maynor . Great minds.... Bekah submits this picture of the JOnes crew. Lots of bees out this year!

Maynor Cousins Originally uploaded by Melanie Maynor . The two bees are mine. The not two bees are beautiful cousins. M chose to be a bee and wanted his brother to be one, too--probably because the costume looked so inviting in the closet. M was a bee a couple years ago, too. Who knows what intrigue bees hold for the boy? Perhaps we've watched too much Winnie-the-Pooh--he's always masquerading as a bee. In real life, he's a little frightened of bees. Perhaps the costume helps him confront his fears. In any case, A good looking lot.