I live with a little boy who ate a mouthful of "seasonie salt" (Lawry's) straight from the shaker this afternoon (from the extract-a-tablespoon side, not the shake-gingerly-over-your-frenchfries side).
Who hefts my economy-sized jug of honey to his mouth and takes a few schwills.
Whose guilty pleasure is to guzzle chocolate syrup right from the bottle.
Who swipes spoonfuls of blackberry preserves from the jar and wears the evidence on his cheeks.
Whose last words at the table nearly every night are, "thanks for making me such a delicious dinner, Mom."
Who refuses to wear "down pants" (any garment below the knee) even when the overnight low is predicted to be sub-freezing.
Who would wear shorts and only shorts every day of his life if allowed. (He's not).
Who would watch "Woody'n'Buzz" eleventy million times on end, if allowed. (Also not).
Who regularly commands, "Mom, be like Zurg".
And who has a really hard time grasping the concept of Miami. The first time he heard it mentioned, Nate was explaining how his friend, Ezra, would be moving to Miami. The next day when the subject was revisited, he said, "Mom, I don't want Ezra to move to my dad's granny." And every time I refer to it, he asks, "Your Ami?" We've given up on clarification and now just refer to Ezra's new life as "Florida".
At the end of the day, I love all these silly things about my boy. In the moment, some of them (mostly the honey-guzzling and stubborn wardrobe preferences) cause strife. This morning we had a lot of strife over the length of sleeves and pants I would require him to wear to leave the house. And I spoke to him in a voice that I don't like the sound of. And I felt bad. And then tonight I saw the part of him that I love probably more than any other -- the side that forgives in an instant and says, "Mom, you better scoot closer to me or you might roll off my bed" and holds up nine husky fingers when I ask him how many bed-time songs he wants me to sing.
We sang five: "I Am A Child of God." "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." "Love at Home." "I am Like a Star Shining Brightly." And "Have You Seen The Ghost of John." Twice :)
Then I scratched his back and tucked him in and felt thankful that he had agreed to wear his fuzzy, footed pajamas (which have down sleeves and down pants).
But before I went to bed tonight, I noticed that his bedroom light was on. So I went in to turn it off, and I pulled the covers back up over his body and it's a good thing I did 'cause he was naked from the waist up. And on the bottom? Shorts.
I love him.