But in a world where Hogwarts and boy wizards were a part of popular culture, it was harder than ever for our kids to remember, and to stick to the rules.
“I like it when she makes the ru-bagel,” Eli said.
Ru-bagel, I struggled to keep a solemn expression on my face as his mangling of the word. That was his best one yet.
I sat there studying my little boy with ketchup smeared on his mouth and his tricorn hat on his head. He flashed me an angelic smile, and I couldn’t help but grin. “Eli?” I said.
“Yeah?” he answered with a mouth full.
“I love your face,” I told him.
My phone chimed, signaling a text message. I flipped the phone over from where I’d set it on the table. It was from my mother.
I’d like to speak to you. When will you be home?
“Who’s that?” Eli wanted to know.
“It’s your grandma,” I answered.
“Can I send a smiley face?”
“Sure,” I said. “Gimme a second.” I typed in a quick answer.
Be home in a half hour.
I handed the phone to Eli who competently chose a smiley emoji, spelled out his name, and hit send.
My mother responded with a few kissy face emojis, and I tucked the phone away.
Eli plowed through his lunch and I finished my lobster roll. I looked out over the marina and tried not to be too disappointed that the eye candy on the sailboat was no longer in my view.
***
Eli and I strolled past the family herb garden and climbed the stairs to our little apartment that was on the second floor of the detached double garage on my parent’s property. We’d moved in when Eli had been six months old and his father had been killed in action.
The arrangement worked for us, as it gave me some privacy, and my parents were close by...as in across the driveway close by. The garage below our apartment was now my workshop where I created, painted and stenciled seasonal themed wooden signs for my parent’s store, and for my online shop.
The apartment wasn’t large, but we didn’t need much. A combination living room and kitchen, a bathroom, and two small bedrooms. I had decorated it simply. It was bright and airy, and I’d managed to make sturdy blue denim slipcovers for my second hand couch, throw pillows and even curtains for my home.
I unlocked the door and Eli rushed in ahead of me. Our cat, Sam, sat in the kitchen window, and he gave a loud meow in greeting. The cat watched suspiciously as Eli ran to his room with a battle cry.
Eli was out seconds later brandishing his plastic sword and having a duel with his imaginary friend Captain Time. So intent on his battle, he whacked against the large, wooden ‘Fresh Honey’ sign that hung in the living room. The sturdy sign didn’t even shift. I’d made it myself. It had a vintage distressed finish and was golden-yellow, with deep navy stenciling that featured a large honeybee.
“Be careful with the sword,” I said automatically.
“No quarter given!” Eli bellowed, hacking away at the air.
“Where’d you learn that?” I asked him.
Eli stopped. “Captain Time taught me.”
I kept my expression neutral. “Well then, you and the Captain should take this battle into your room, Grandma is coming over.”
Eli swept his hat off his head and made a sort of bow. “Yes, m’lady,” and he strolled into his room.
I shook my head at his retreating back. I’d assumed that Eli’s pirate obsession had simply been a phase, but now I was starting to get a little concerned. M’lady? No quarter given?
A knock sounded a second before the door opened. “Hello?” my mother called out, poking her head in the door.
“Hey Mom.” I motioned her in, and was surprised to see my father with her. Maryanne and Padrick Pogue strolled in, holding hands. My mom had the same honey blonde hair as I, but she had bangs and added highlights. My father’s hairline was receding, and his blonde hair and neatly trimmed beard were almost all gray now. He was too thin and trim to ever pass for Santa Claus, but the long ZZ Top style beard made many of the local children gaze at him with large eyes every December.
The fact that my parents still held hands like teenagers after thirty five years of marriage gave me hope that someday I’d find a love like that.
“You.” I pointed accusingly at my father. “No more pirate movies, or Renaissance Faires. Eli’s pirate fascination is getting a little extreme.”
“Aw, he’s just a boy. Let him play.” My father shrugged away my concerns and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Ever since you bought that tricorn hat for Eli he’s refused to take it off,” I said.
My father’s response was a quick grin.
“I told you not to buy that,” my mother said, and playfully smacked his shoulder.
“Dad, did you two hang out with a bunch of pirate players at the Ren Faire last month?” I wanted to know.
“No we didn’t, and Eli was disappointed we missed the Pirate Weekend.”
“Well, I suppose I should be thankful for small favors. Because you should hear some of the stuff he’s been saying lately.”
“Padrick,” my mother began, “why don’t you take Eli outside and keep him busy while Hannah and I have a little chat.”
“Sure.” My father dropped a kiss on my mother’s mouth and began to stomp loudly across the apartment, calling for Eli. He slammed the bedroom door open and mock growled at Eli. “Surrender or die!”
“By the goddess.” My mother rolled her eyes to the ceiling as the battle cries of grandfather and grandson filled the apartment. “And he accuses me of being dramatic.”
And sure enough, after a bit of a chase and grab, my father was carting out my son, upside down, by one
