“Mommy, kiss”. His backpack is loaded on his back and his breath smells like bacon. We give a peck on the lips, as he cranes his neck back and then I watch him walk out the door to his Daddy’s truck. Dressed in clothes that he chose himself, it’s been a long time since I’ve had to lay clothes out for him. And just like that, another morning has started and he’s off to school. So independent. I think about his precious smile and those two big adult teeth, now his most prominent feature. Well, besides his adorable dimples that people always comment about.
I clear his plate from the table, smiling that he ate the bacon and eggs and the waffle.
In the afternoon, when I pick the boys up from school, he is so excited and runs to the van. He and his brother start to tell me about their day. He used to be more quiet but now he tells me too. About his friends, what homework he has. I glance at him in my rearview mirror to make sure his seatbelt is on. I hear it click as our eyes meet and I am about to say the words.
At home he is rambunctious. He forages in the pantry for snacks, he rides his bike, or scooter. He offends his sister with his words and sometimes with his hitting. But then he is so sorry. He squishes the puppy’s face in his hands in a loveing-ish way. There are no soft actions with this child, unless he is next to me. While he is there I tell him how cute he is. I glance at his bitten off nails and wish he had not picked up the same habit I had as a kid. It’s quite unfair how cute his nose is. I squish his cheeks together and make a “fish face” and say, “Oh, you’re SO CUTE!” and then kiss his fish-shaped lips. He’s always been my most affectionate and attached child. He’s the emotional one. He still whines and figures out how to the aggravate me but I love him. So much.
He comes to me with the look of “see how cute I am” and asks, “Can I have a BBS?” It stands for Before Bed Snack and every night he requests one. Even though he always eats heartily at dinner. A few months ago I started saying he was “the best eater” and most nights he proves me right. He cleans his plate or comes close. I love that he enjoys most of the food I cook. He smiles with pride when I tell him he’s won the “best eater” award for the night. Yet he still always wants that snack.
“Mom, lay with me please.” Usually his Dad volunteers but occasionally I still lay with him as he drifts off. It’s hard for him to calm his boy body that has been going non-stop since 6:45 a.m. He doesn’t wind down, he crashes. But as his breathing softens and becomes a rhythm, I can sense that he soon will be fast asleep. I can smell his little boy toothpaste breath. I feel the warmth of his leg that he wrapped around mine. I wonder what he dreams about.
It’s 4:00 a.m. and he’s in our bed. I wake with his foot on my nose. It’s been so long since he’s come to lay with us, with me really. He’s too big anymore. His legs splay out and take up much of the king-sized bed and in my half-awake state all I can do is laugh a little at the fact that his toes are literally almost in my nostrils. I have no idea how he’s gotten so big. As usual.
I have thoughts of this one never leaving home because neither of us could bear it. What kind of mother thinks that of her 7-year old son? Of course I want him to go. Someday, when he’s ready. He’s SO different than his older brother. I am done comparing them though. They are two completely different people.
“Mom, this math homework is SO hard, please help me, please.” I sit down and tell him that I will help him as long as he stops whining. “Just ask me in a regular voice,” I say. He does and we carry on, even though I can see the tears starting to form in his eyes. “G, this is easy, I know you can do this.” I know his confidences is waning. I give him “the answer of the night” (I give each child ONE answer every evening to one homework question or problem that is stumping them) and then he takes off and does the rest of the problems himself. I ask him what the problem was and he shrugs, “Eh, I knew it. No big deal.”
He wears only one pair of shoes, unless he can find both of his crocs on the weekend. He has two hair whoorls and the ladies at the hairdresser have to figure out how to deal with those every time he gets his hair cut. He sings in church. His sloppy kisses in the morning and the night are my favorite. He gets too upset about little things. He has a love/don’t like that much relationship with his sister. He worships his older brother. He loves video games and super heroes. He’s yet to meet a food he will not try. His hugs are tight but loving. A look at his sweet face melts your heart.
He is my second son and he knows just how to get me. 🙂
This is the second post about someone I love this week, the first one is here, about my girl. Tomorrow will be the next one…