Jesterly Challenge Month – November 28th

Sheena didn’t officially challenge me to write something based on this picture, but I felt compelled to, because it is too awesome not to contribute and pass it along.  So, here’s the picture, and my words follow, as always.

…..
…..

“Where you going, Daddy?  Momma, where’s Daddy going?”

The Little Prince, as impatient with answers to his questions as he was with everything else at the moment, tugged on the Queen’s dress.  She bore it with the grace that comes with decades of royal training and smiled down at her son, with a raise of her eyebrows that indicated his answers would come if he would wait a moment longer.

The Jester, with a smile of his own, turned to face the Little Prince.  “Where do you think I’m going?”

The Little Prince was not amused.  Answering a question with another question did not get him what he wanted and he pursed his lips and furrowed his brow to show his disappointment.  With a vigorous shake of his head, he completed his refusal to reply.

The Jester bent down so he was level with his son and said, “I’m all dressed up.  Got my jingle hat on.  Got my sparkles on.  Got my bag of tricks.  Where do I go when I’m like this?”

The Little Prince smirked.  He knew the answer but was too stubborn to give it.  So, he shook his head again and crossed his arms in front of him.

With a roll of his eyes and an exaggerated, fake, sigh, the Jester rose, “I’m off to the blogosphere to spread silliness and joy.  But, don’t fret, I shall return.  I always do.”

“Momma, you going with Daddy?”

“No, I’m staying here to play with you.”

Relief flooded the child’s features and his infectious dimple bordered smile returned.  “Okay, bye Daddy.  Come on, Momma, let’s play!”

While the Little Prince eyed the nearest wall, considering its durableness and springiness to determine if it would be good to bounce off of, the Jester stepped closer to his wife.  “You know,” he whispered, “you are both welcome in the ‘sphere.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

“What do you know?”  The Little Prince was by her side again, earnestly hoping to meet her gaze.

“I also know,” the Queen continued, dropping the whisper, “that we are there with you always, even when we aren’t.”

“What are you talking about, Momma?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder but he ignored her request for patience.

“Momma?  Momma?  Momma!  What you talking about?”

The Jester smiled and bowed deeply to his Queen and then straightened as he spoke, “You are my loves, my muses, it’s true.  You are in everything I do.  Today, I’ll borrow the duality of his urgent clinging fearlessness and your unfaltering beauty.  I’ll take on the role of bard and pen a poem, constructed with your cadence and curves, and biting with jabs at the falseness of who we pretend to be.  Or, perhaps I’ll take on the role of minstrel and pen a song, with harmony and melody wondrous to hear, but with lyrics that frighten those who stray too near.”

The Little Prince was wide eyed and momentarily silenced, held in a trance by his father’s words, and the Queen smiled at her Jester and put her free hand on his shoulder.  “Whatever you are today, you will be great.”

The moment passed, “Bye, Daddy,” the Little Prince exclaimed while pulling the Queen the opposite direction.  “Come on, Momma, let’s go play.”

With a wink and a laugh, the Jester took his leave to wander, purposefully and distractedly, into the blogosphere.  He wasn’t sure who he would end up being that day, or what he would find, but he knew it would be good.  He knew it would be great.  The Queen was always right about those sorts of things.