I know that I tell you a dozen times a day that I love you. I know that you get it. I just thought I’d share with you some of the reasons why, at this very moment, I am thrilled to be your mother.
I love the way your little face scowls when you go into “rockstar mode”. That brow furrows and those shoulders tense up… watch out, Adam Lambert!
I love to see you take a moment and pause before you ask something, realizing that you are more likely to get what you want if you throw a “please ma’am” in there somewhere.
I love how you ask me to scratch your back before bed just a little bit longer.
I love to be frustrated by your incredibly predictable and DAILY barrage of questions – “What’s for dessert?” “What’s after my nap?” “How many more minutes?” “Can I sleep in your bed?” “What’s after this nighttime?” “Can we go downstairs?’ “NOW can we go downstairs?” “Can I listen to the cool Jason Mraz song?” “Can I listen to Kanye West?” “Can I listen to Thing Called Love?” ”Is Daddy going to be late tonight?” ”How’s my teeth look?”
I love searching your perfectly smooth face for freckles. I know they will pop up one of these days…
I love how completely unaware you are of nudity. Absolutely no inhibitions – I can’t even image that there was once a time that we were all so comfortable with our bodies.
I love the soft, squeaky little voice you use when you talk to your baby sister.
I love the look of pride that lights up your whole face whenever you accomplish something by yourself. Your car seat buckle! The stair gate! Your shoes and socks! Wiping your own post-poo bottom will soon follow, I’m certain…
I love your thick, blonde hair.
I love your unbelievable enthusiasm for sports.
I love that your reading ability shocks so many people. You are a great party trick, my boy.
I love that playing Wii with Greg and Riley online is like the equivalent of Disneyland in your little world.
I love that you ask to eat Pho for dinner.
I love the pure affection in your voice when you talk about all of your friends. You go through each classmate, teammate, and relative by name and I am amazed by your ability to care for people so sincerely at such a young age.
I love the way your voice drops an entire octave when you talk to our neighbor, Paul. ”Hey Paul! Did you get a haircut? You suuure look handsome today!”
I love the way you stutter. So many ideas and questions just can’t wait to tumble out of that mouth of yours.
I love dropping you off at preschool in the morning and seeing all of the teachers and assistants greet you with such joy. It is apparent how much they love you, too. Makes a mama burst with pride!
I love hearing your little footsteps scamper around upstairs when I’m down in my office. (usually when you are “napping”)
I love how you gag when you eat mashed potatoes. Every. Single. Time.
I love how you are your own sports commentator when you play baseball or football out in the yard. It makes me giggle to hear you come up with player’s names that are a hybrid of your real-life friends and actual athletes that you know. ”Now up to the bat is Zion Rendon!” ”Tyler Casey catches the ball!”
I love your pretend brothers, Jason and James.
I love how, after playing it one time on a single afternoon, you now can recite the names and combat styles of virtually every character from Street Fighter on XBox. Did you know, for example, that Ken and Blanca have the same big muscles? (even though Blanca is green and has crazy hair, their muscles are the same) Thanks for the scoop, Pbo.
Oh, sweet Parker, these things only represent a fraction of my love for you. You are so very precious. It is from the bottom of my heart when I sing to you every night -
I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.