The way he says, “Mama?”, staccato with the emphasis on the last syllable, and a tone so sweet it can make my heart burst.
my sweet nature boy
The way he says, “Mama”, long and drawn with the emphasis on the first syllable, and a tone so sweet it can make my heart burst.
tiger beat
The way he can entertain himself for hours with sticks and leaves and rocks.
ceaseless fascination
The way he can entertain himself for hours with pots and containers and lids.
water child
The way he’s so full of life that he can’t contain himself.
dancing to the beat of his own drummer
The way he so enjoys the moment, that departure therefrom is epic tragedy.
the prince holds court
The pictures he draws for me.
poetry in motion
The food he shares with me.
when you drink from a big boy cup
Motherhood.
It’s a love that aches, a love that makes your heart burst, a love that makes your soul sing. A love that holds the hopes and dreams and cares and responsibilities of the lives you’ve been entrusted with.
les petites choses
To protect and nurture. To impart knowledge, consideration, compassion, and respect. To raise up well. It’s no small thing, this job, and there are so many versions of how it should be done.
I am doing my best.
And my boys, though they have their moments, are good, good boys.
