While I am a Debbie Downer and put zero stock in much of arbitrary New Year's Day nonsense, as a diehard introspective person, I do like the act of reflecting.
I have just started reading a book of essays by Ross Gay called The Book of Delights, and it has inspired me to try to find more and write about, however, briefly, things that delight me.
A delight (#1)
For several years now, M is a commando kid, and that is fine. He has recently discovered the joy of really, really soft pants. "Santa" brought him a pair of size XS women's super soft lounge pants, and lounge he does.
These last ten months or so, M has also decided he likes going shirtless. The hazards of quarantine and online school, I guess. Although he does put on shirts for his classes, virtually all other times, he goes without.
It is the combination of the soft pants, no shirt, and M's itchiness when he tells a story that offers me delight. I'm not sure if he is actually itchy or if he just needs something to do with his hands when he talks to me and the rest of the family.
He puts his hands in his lounge pant pockets and moves them in a circular fashion, while also twisting the pants around his waist. As the story continues, he then moves his hands up the sides of his chest repeatedly.
He isn't actually scratching himself the way one would an actual itch or mosquito bite. It is more just a fiddling, a movement, but it is a regular occurrence that both makes me laugh and also distracts me from what he is saying. M is a fast-talker and often tells me about things that I have no context for (like video games or YouTube videos) so it doesn't take much for me to lose fast track of what he is saying.
I find this immensely delightful, but it is also easily ignored. Not "important" enough for me to remember much of the time.
But I think that is how most delights are.
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