He giggles in the backseat, sucking his thumb and fuzzing his monkey's ears nearly off, so that Mr. Monkey now resembles a bat.
"You're singing that 'Mommy song' AGAIN?"
"Yeah," he sighs.
"You just want to tell me how much you love me, right?"
We sit side by side on the sofa and he leans into me, snuggling up close. I feel his hand tap on mine, his monkey bouncing gently on my cheek. "Monkey's daaancing," he says, with an English accent on the word "dancing." "Monkey's happy."
I kiss his still chubby cheeks hundreds of times a day. "You're just the best little boy, you know that?" He sighs. "How much does Mommy love you?"
"To da moon and back!" he yells.
I want to tell him how charming he is, how much he makes me laugh, how proud I am of him, how much he has made me a better person, what joy he has brought to the world, what magic he posses and passes out like candy.
I can't wait to celebrate Mother's Day with him, but then again, we celebrate that day every single day of the year. I want to thank him for that.
I want him to know that he brings the color, charisma, and yes, the choas to life. He is the exclamation point, the hope, the innocence, the adventure, the most beautiful vista, the heart and the soul.
Of all the things that I have helped create or will create in life, he is, by far, the best.
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!
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