Friday, May 13, 2011

The Things You Say

You don't want it.
Your throat does.
Your throat is hungry, you tell me.

. . . though it seems that when I say "No,"
it's not your throat that starts to pout.

This week you've broken your haircut.
And your ideas.
(Something that your dad says he can relate to.)

You have a lot of words, you told me.
Very true.

Your favorite adjectives right now are
"disgusting" and "delicious"
and when I gave you a toy you got bored with quickly,
you said it was "freaking you out."

(Okay, you got that one from me.)

You don't like chicken.
Or noodles.
Or anything else that falls under the word "supper."
You don't even like food, you tell me.
You only like snacks.
And you sure don't like lemonade.
Just juice.

You've started calling me "Mama" and you
say it over and over again,
clearly just liking the way it sounds.

You want to go see a Strawberry Man.
So . . . you want me to buy strawberries from the
produce stand on the corner.

You call me back upstairs after I've tucked you in
because you want to give me a "biiiiiiiiiiig hug!"
Lately you like to kiss people on the nose.

Randomly and often,
you tell me you love me.

It makes my day every time.

No comments:

Post a Comment