With these simple words, the boy had my back. I never doubted his sincerity. In his eyes, I am some sort of "Frincess," and this princess melted a little and forgave him a lot. He is my constant companion, always watching, forever seeing. The first to notice a new purse, or new earrings - and the boy knows who butters his bread.
Nice earrings, Mom. Nice purse.
But mostly it's just who he is.
His ornery, wild, hilarious side is perfectly counter-balanced by his complimentary, small-gentleman side. It had to be so. Or else he would spend eternity in his room, contemplating his toddler follies.
I'm sorry, Mom. I just love you.
The keys to the dungeon are sweet and sincere. Large, watery hazel eyes look straight into my eyes, and all of his bravado (and oh, there's a-plenty) drops away. I shake my head at how one small boy can get what an apology is and should be, and execute it perfectly. Other local children, who shall remain nameless, could take lessons in the offering of a sincere apology.
Here's to you, you little stinker.
Just when I think you are beyond the pale, you go and say something so sweet. You are always tricking me, Phoeney-Phoenster. "Fricked ya!" you yell, hooting at me. Yep, you sure did trick me. Keep it up.
you so beautifully and fully express the wonder of motherhood. you're a "Frincess" in his eyes, and well you should be. happy day to you Bethany.
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