Well, I see you have been regaled with The Tales of Phoenix this week... and man, he tells a good story. It's like, exactly how it went down! But, as a small boy would, he forgets some other moments. Like, just this morning, when he woke me up at 6:15 to snap his pants. He was up and already dressing in his dress clothes for the school Thanksgiving Feast - without being told. And like yesterday, when I got him out of class to go to the school Book Fair. We walked around the media center, browsing and talking - only I could *barely* hear him! He had his major quiet voice on, and it is not a voice I am familiar with. I had to keep kneeling down to kiss him. No wonder he shouts all early morning and afternoon - he has used up his quiet quota.
When he arrived home, and we were sitting together looking through his Book Fair finds, he twinkled up at me and said: "I'm so proud you went to the Book Fair with me today."
Gah! Knock me over!
If he keeps rolling out the sweetness to go with all that cuteness, I am in t-r-o-u-b-l-e. I had to eat all his sugar, as my grandmother would say, smashing my face into his little soft neck. Then he got into a "soft" war with me, arguing over who was the softest! Swoon!
That kid.
My boy is changing.
I am torn.
The sweetness it melts me; the wildness I envy.
The boy who dances to unheard music, with hilarity and cool moves.
The boy who takes on all comers with a surefire attitude and a cocked hip.
The boy who can disarm an agitated situation with a comical shtick and turn us all into giggling fools.
Living with abandon is not to be underestimated.
When I think of the brief times I tried it, I get happy. I bubble inside.
I want his bubbles never to pop.
