My boy loves to snuggle up under the covers with my hands in his hair. He loves to sit on my lap and listen to books. His lips whisper secrets into my neck as he holds on tight. His secrets slip into my waiting and longing ears. His fingers slip around mine as we walk away from the car, his eyes slip over to me with a crinkly grin. His song echoes through the bathroom door as he reads long after he needs to be in there. His too-long bangs fall into his eyes; my fingers long to sweep them aside so I can see those grey-green eyes.
My boy reads my moods quicker than a barometer. He sneeks a cherry-flavored cough drop out of my dresser drawer and shows it to me before slipping it sweetly into his mouth. He tells on himself when he forgets to do something. He folds clothes into clumps and puts them away. He stands close enough to me for me to breath in his freshness, his "outside" smell. He laughs riotously and secretly gathers his blanky close at night. He talks during every reading of the book with other thoughts that his mind can't possibly contain for one more second. His fingers slip silently into my hand as he dreams. He gently adjusts his toys...
My boy gets cross when he witnesses injustice, injury, and cruelty. He gets sad when he sees unkindness.
My boy tells me everything. He lowers his eyes with a grin and tells me about a pretty girl. He can't believe how he was lucky enough to get the best mom on earth. He is curious about where dialects come from. He wonders what people "get" from being mean to others. He has questions about refraction, life, and gummy bears.
My boy hugs his buddies, his family, his friends.
My heart aches with love for this child.
I hope every day that Jerry and I are able to provide him with the strength, love, constancy, and direction that he will need in this world.
I can see him now...sitting on the floor with his back to me, arms askew, Legos sorted into incomprehensible piles... The sounds of pilots, attackers, and heroes coming out of both sides of his mouth. Adventure pouring around and through him. His elbows stick out a bit too far, his hands fumble as he gets used to his longer fingers, his knee caps visible from behind...I slip into the room, sit quietly, and begin playing...