Posted on | December 22, 2010 | 8 Comments
His hairline looks like a military cut.
He says “peas” when we tell him to ask nicely.
When he wants a book read, he picks it up, toddles over, climbs in my lap and says “Ba Ba?”
He calls everything with wheels “Car.”
He points out any and every thing round and proudly announces “BALL!”
When I ask him for love, he puts his fat little arms around my shoulders and lays his head against the curve of my neck.
If he sees a man with a beard he grins and yells “HO HO HO!”
And when he cries, because he’s hurt or sad or scared, the only person in the whole world who can make it better… is me. He loves me fully and completely. He loves me whether I’m happy or sad. He loves me because I’m his mom. I’m the only one he has. I’m the only one he knows. And he knows without being told, though I tell him often, that I love him without limits. He is who I love to the moon and back and then out and back again. He is the reason I get out of bed. Every. Single. Day.