Monday, March 28, 2011

The Things You Say



You've been full of chatter lately.
All last week you had the funniest things to say.

You told me first about Lilly.
You said you told her you loved him.
(Everyone to you is a "him" or a "he" despite my efforts to teach you otherwise.)
You said you told him you loved him while on the playground-
and that he said he didn't love you,
then he ran away,
and you called
"Lilly, come back!"

You sounded so pitiful when you told me.
I got a bit teary,
thinking she must be a little brat anyway.
Who couldn't love you?
She'll come around,
don't you worry.

At the grocery, you told me a bottle of wine would weigh five dollars.
And you informed me that you need a big boy bed.
You say your throat is hungry.
You want to play with the waterhose.
Always the waterhose, never the hose.

I like watching you sit criss-cross applesauce
with your little chin propped up in your hands.
I like how fluffy your hair gets after a bath.
Smells like lavender.

We painted pinecones the other day.
You get very excited around paint.
And pinecones, for that matter.
You collect rocks and gumballs and pennies.
More than once I've found rocks in the washing machine
from where I forgot to empty your pockets.

You tell me they're for me and don't appreciate at all
when I throw them away or toss them outside.

Lately, you ask constantly if I love you like you.
And you say often that you love me like me.
It doesn't get old.
I figure there will soon be a day when you won't be so
enthusiastic about telling your mom how you feel.

You're almost four.
Three more weeks of threedom.









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