Yesterday Jay and I had some alone time. It's few and far between these days.
He's getting so big. He's changing.
Probably the one I am noticing change in the most.
Along with the narrowing of his face and lengthening of his body (oh my, we used to call him "chubber-boo" and he was this crazy rollly polly baby boy), is coming this deeply understanding look in his eyes. Those eyes look older than 6 to me.
He sat in the passenger seat and I drove. We went to pick up a gift for the baby. You know - the one who will be 2 in a couple of weeks. *gulp*
And we talked about stuff.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, couldn't help but grin.
And this thought passed through my head, "I really like him".
I know, I'm his mom, right?!
What mom wouldn't like her own son? - Well, let me tell you - I have always loved this crazy bit of my own flesh and blood.
Loved him deeply.
But he was a really hard baby.
He was an impossible toddler.
Oh the stories I could tell...
So, here he is. He's six, and he's maturing like crazy, and I like him.
I want to spend time with him.
I want to be with him
and make jokes with him
and carry on conversations with him.
I want to brush his long blond hair out of his eyes and ask him all about his day.
I look forward to that.
So, we drove, and we talked.
He started asking me a few things about the church service we had just been to.
Then he looked up at me and said,
"Mom, sometimes I feel like I am being really good - like I WANT to be good - but then sin just comes...
(gets both fists and beats his chest) and it crashes on me mom. It just crashes on me."
Yep, he's my boy.
He's getting big.
I like him.
And he is a whole lot like his mama!