[Today's blog is by Monitor correspondent Lee Lawrence, who will be handling this project until Mary returns Sept. 15. ]
Though two years older and several inches taller than his brother, Bill takes up half the space that Igey occupies. Most of what I saw of Bill on my first visit to his home in Indian Creek last week was the large, white 5 on the back of his soccer shirt, for no sooner did he come home than he slipped into the hallway on cat's feet and disappeared into a bedroom. The younger Igey meanwhile claimed center stage in the living room, prancing and hopping and hollering, seemingly delighted to have someone new in the audience.
When it started to rain ouside, Dawami sailed across the room to bring in the shoes that were lined up at the front door and, one by one, closed the windows in the apartment and switched on a fan. The stir in the air notwithstanding, it was muggy in the living room, but this didn't stop Igey from flinging himself around the carpeted room. Although I didn't get treated to the sight of Igey donning yogurt cartons for shoes (Mary took this picture on a previous visit), I did get to see Igey at play with marbles. Plunking himself on the floor between the couch and the television, he challenged Mary, then me. After beating us both a few times and proudly counting his victorious stash of marbles -- "One, two, three..." on up through "20... 30..." and in one game as many as "60" - his face lit up. He had just had a typical 8-year-old's stroke of maniacal genius.
Amid much cackling laughter, he lifted his right leg to a 45-degree angle and scooped into his pant leg handful after handful of marbles. With every glinting globe of glass that disappeared into the blue-jeaned leg, he whooped and chortled until there were no more marbles on the floor. Clutching the cuff closed, he then struggled to his feet and released his grip. Marbles rained onto the dark carpet like drops of dew and Igey, proud and loud, flung his limbs into a jerky dance exclaiming, "I wet my pants! I wet my pants!"