Imp

My little man was a little imp for much of the day. Even though the moments can be hard, I find that I love him especially much on days like today. And in the midst of the impness, there were other moments. Like this morning when we were talking about colors that he had never heard before – I started with some purples… Violet, Lavender, Periwinkle… He thought that last one was funny, and we talked about making up a story about a guy named “Periwinkle”. We thought we could call him “Perry” for short. Then we talked about nick-names, and I asked him what are some of the names other people call him. He thought for a minute and then said, (in JUST the voice you’d expect from someone counting a long list of things…), “B-Man, Bren, Brendan Casler Gianino…” (That last one is sort of a long nick-name.) Then I asked him what Mommy calls him – without missing a beat, he said, “My Hero”. It made my eyes well up immediately. I guess I do call him my hero, but I never realized it sunk in so much. I composed myself and asked, “what else does mommy call you?” He came up with “Peanut, Honeydoodle….” and as he said ‘honeydoodle’ he laughed the sweetest little laugh and said, “I like that one”. My honeydoodle.

When I finally finished his bath and his pj’s and his teeth brushing, I was a little rung out from all the extra energy my little imp needed tonight. He got up from my lap and he said, “Mommy – you seem a little sad”. I gathered him up and said, “Mommy’s okay – I just try so hard to be the best Mommy I can for you. I want to teach you all the right things, and make sure you are happy.” He gave me a big hug and said, “I know Mommy – you’re the best Mommy. You’re my favorite.” Then we made up a game that is sort of like the kissing version of the windmill in miniature golf. We alternate puckering our lips and then smiling, and each of us tries to sneak in a kiss at just the right time. And when we taught Daddy the game he said, “Daddy – don’t forget to laugh in between!”.

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I don’t want to forget a single moment – not the extra sillies, not the fact that “poop” and “booby” are the funniest words that need to be said again and again and again. Not the way he is so taken with making guns with three fingers perfectly straight and his pointer finger curved in saying “pew pew pew” at everything. And I certainly don’t want to forget all these other moments wedged in between. He is three and three quarters, and he is perfect.