Living in the Land of Huck

I have known Bob since he was 15.  To know him then is to know him now.

Bob is loyal and sensitive and good to the core.  He works hard.  He is kind.  He is generous.  He is loving and quick to forgive.  He is talented.  He is ethical.  He has great faith.

He is also a boy.

I'm told all men are boys at heart and I believe that is true.  It takes very little to make a man turn into a goofy 12-year-old, howling with laughter till milk comes out of his nose at fart jokes and The Three Stooges.  But Bob actually prefers to live in the land of Huck Finn and so I, naturally, assume the role of Aunt Polly.  You remember her?  The killjoy.  The strict one.  The grown-up.  The one no one likes.

Huckfinnian hijinks abound.   Yesterday, to warm himself, he stood on the edge of a fire pit while the flames lapped at his jeans.  I screamed.  He looked at me like I was crazy.  I mean, he was cold.

I always loved Aunt Polly.