One of the things I have missed over the past few weeks since my surgery is the boy, MY boy. I haven't been able to rough-house with him like I normally would. He is a riot. (He is currently pusing the buttons on my laptop with his face. I've had to retype a few sentences.) He is full of life and energy, and when he laughs it is contagious! And I know I'm a bit partial, but he is JUST BEAUTIFUL! We are in the process of teaching him the manners of a gentleman...he opens the car door for me this morning, he opens the doors at school for the teachers and girls (even though his girl cousins like to hold the door open because it's considered a priviledge to get that assignment in class). You know, there are things you don't have to teach a boy however -- how to burp, how to aggravate another sibling, especially a sister, how to maximize the most out of a mud puddle, how to take apart things, how to make car noises, or how to use other toys as weapons, or how to love on their momma (even though Pearce is definitely not a momma's boy).
He just came over to me and raised his shirt, I get to have a big, fat zerber with the bonus of his belly laugh.
What got me on this tear to begin with was Pearce playing on his hand-me-down, pink and purple Leapster (he is very sure of his manhood. He's the only 4 year-old I know with a moustache!). He explained to me that should I need to talk to him, I'd have to ask him first. I asked how should I do that if I'm not allowed to talk to him? He chuckled and said, "Just ask." "But then I'll be speaking to you," and it just went downhill from there. One thing led to another and before I knew it I had been tackled.
There are days that Pearce is more than a handful. He's strong-willed and energetic (the answer to my mother's prayers), and he is just over-flowing the cup with himself. These are the days I refer to him as THE BOY. When I receive a call from preschool about Pearce hitting someone or something, there is a principal over the high school who is family. I call, leave a message that goes something like this, "Mr. Rodney, would you please go see THE BOY. He's done (fill in the blank), and I think he really needs a man to speak to him." I don't even have to tell him who I am or who THE BOY is!
Before adopting MY BOY, I never knew how that three-letter word was so expansive as to cover such a vast amount of information, material and action, but there is nothing like the presence of a little boy in your life to infuse it with energy and excitement and adventure.
Thank God for little boys. Amen and amen.
PS I'll have do a blog on little girls another time, but this time was about the one who currently calls me "big momma" (for what reason, I don't know, but then again, he doesn't have to have a reason.). ;>
He just came over to me and raised his shirt, I get to have a big, fat zerber with the bonus of his belly laugh.
What got me on this tear to begin with was Pearce playing on his hand-me-down, pink and purple Leapster (he is very sure of his manhood. He's the only 4 year-old I know with a moustache!). He explained to me that should I need to talk to him, I'd have to ask him first. I asked how should I do that if I'm not allowed to talk to him? He chuckled and said, "Just ask." "But then I'll be speaking to you," and it just went downhill from there. One thing led to another and before I knew it I had been tackled.
There are days that Pearce is more than a handful. He's strong-willed and energetic (the answer to my mother's prayers), and he is just over-flowing the cup with himself. These are the days I refer to him as THE BOY. When I receive a call from preschool about Pearce hitting someone or something, there is a principal over the high school who is family. I call, leave a message that goes something like this, "Mr. Rodney, would you please go see THE BOY. He's done (fill in the blank), and I think he really needs a man to speak to him." I don't even have to tell him who I am or who THE BOY is!
Before adopting MY BOY, I never knew how that three-letter word was so expansive as to cover such a vast amount of information, material and action, but there is nothing like the presence of a little boy in your life to infuse it with energy and excitement and adventure.
Thank God for little boys. Amen and amen.
PS I'll have do a blog on little girls another time, but this time was about the one who currently calls me "big momma" (for what reason, I don't know, but then again, he doesn't have to have a reason.). ;>
1 comment:
Love those boys...to be sure!
And...you don't worry...your eyes are not deceiving you...he is beautiful!
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