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Flying Monkey's annual birthday party...at his house. We were third to arrive, my family. That's not significant, lol. It was a good time. Flying Monkey hung out in his room with his younger cousin once he got there...but otherwise hung around in the living room with everyone, or the other rooms. It's difficult to write this without just being absolutely swept away with how beautiful Flying Monkey really is. I don't know how he would react if I seriously told him he was beautiful, due to how his parents and other extended family member on that side bring him up. I feel like a black sheep...a polar opposite. I don't necessarily believe in gender roles. I don't believe in "girl toys" and "boy toys" or "girl clothes" and "boy clothes" or the other various things. I played with Polly Pocket when I was young. Why? Because I liked it...even in a society where this gender role stuff gets thrown around everywhere. But I'm getting off on the story now... Flying Monkey got the various presents he wanted: Legos, Star Wars activity things...pretty cool stuff. We got him a table-size air hockey table (which he and I had enjoyed playing with at one of those "Costco-type" stores), and something else I can't recall right now. Once everyone else had left, he was allowed to open the air hockey table out of the box. We played best-of-3...and he won 2-1 (aggressive, little guy...btw, three full games of air hockey with the scoring going up to 10, so I sound a little less pathetic haha). I always need that one-on-one quality time with him...I think it's absolutely required for a pedophile to have, apart from being extremely desired for by them. Truth is...in my heart, I feel as if he's my little brother. I'm his big brother. He's an only child (apart from a dog), but he will never be alone... Big brother always has your back, Flying Monkey...and he always will... |