Benjamin has been enjoying cartoons. Disney is his home turf, and he knows the names of many of the actors who provide those voices. He has a soft spot for Dumbo, which takes me out at the knees.
This week I needed to go record the marionettes for church, and John was in a zoom meeting. I tentatively prepared to leave Ben home alone. He was smiling broadly at an old flick with ducks and dogs and musketeers. As I said goodbye he took my hand.
In case I have not mentioned it, Ben is rather like Pinocchio in that his hugs are wooden. He is trusting and can be easily duped by scoundrels, but in one arena he is different. Ben does not lie. He is shocked that anyone would.
For him to cling to me was a moment I would not have rushed for the world.
"Yes, Benjamin?"
"I want you to see the funny part." His eyes never left the screen. I watched the slapstick humor, in between glancing back at our uncharacteristically clasped fingers. I took a deep breath.
"Is this the funny part?" Sorry to need coaching but I wasn't sure.
"It's coming," he held on a little tighter.
Squeeze all you want.
Then he laughed. "This is it!" A horse was carrying a heavy load of three animals, and when they dismounted his back was as sway as they come. Like an inverted camel. Then the mare shuddered and straightened up, good as new.
Ben zeros in on redemption. Scrooge. The Beast. Professor Hinkle. People that were wrong that turn around. He laughed heartily, enjoying not the surprise, as he has watched it a dozen times, but in relief. The horse was righted yet again.
I hugged him with the warmth of Geppetto. My son is real.
