I was in the delivery room when Boston was born. He and I bonded hard and fast. For the first two years of his life, I didn't work and was able to spend lots of time with him—at Gymboree classes, riding around together, or just hanging out at my house. He knew I was all his. I had dates in Tucson, but there was only one man that Boston remembers—the Gardener. And they only saw each other a couple of times, so it was not a bonding experience or a strong memory.
I've been apprehensive, since going topsy-turvy for the Jazzman, about how Boston was going to take to sharing me with another man. I've been careful with my every word, and slow to introduce this new variable.
I needn't have worried. I mentioned earlier that Boston pulled me aside on Sunday and said how much he liked the Jazzman.
Last night I made waffles at my house for the kids. After dinner, Ridley went into the living room to play the piano. Boston, who was still sitting at the table, looked over at me and again said how much he likes the Jazzman and how much fun he is.
These children are so open and loving; I guess I needn't have worried.
Kudos to their parents for raising such warm and loving children.
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