We've got cuteness in spades over here. It's sickeningly sweet and I lap it up every day.
True to my predictions, I'm even more convinced that we are raising a snuggle bunny. Even worse (better?), he is going to be a 6'5" snuggle bunny. (And just to freak your freak, at 22 months old, the child is 35 1/2 " tall. He's huge.)
So what makes him a snuggle bunny? Standing on my lap, hugging my neck for 5 minutes repeating "I you, Mommy" while I say "I love you, Conor" again and again and again. ("Love" is implied here)
And when his "best friend" Ollie came over this weekend, Conor hugged and hugged and hugged him. It all started when they were separated as we scooted them into the house at the beginning of a thunderstorm. When Conor saw Ollie again, he ran over and pounced on him with a huge bear hug. We all thought it was hysterical until there was one too vigorous of a hug and they both fell down and bumped their noggins. The next day, I asked Conor if he had hugged Ollie and he said "Yeah. Ollie. Boom" and pointed to the spot where they fell. (cute!)
This whole cuteness thing has caught me completely by surprise. I had no idea that my little man was going to blow me away daily with his absolute adorableness. I really don't mean to be one of those super sappy mothers, but I am absolutely in love with my son right now.
I am completely sure that in 15 years, he's going to turn into this, so until then, I'm going to wallow in his kindness and appreciate his open mouthed, slobbery kisses. Even when his kisses contain graham crackers and even when he leaves wet crumbs on the back of my leg. (A game of hide and seek with his godfather was involved along with some pretty amazing squeals of laughter)
Oh, and I forgot to mention Conference Booty Part II: At last week's conference, Dave won a Fossil watch for me AND a two night stay in Asheville at a swanky-ish hotel. Guess where this year's summer vacation is going to be?
1 comment:
Man, you two are really raking in the conference schwag this year! Go, Anita :-)
*Such* a powerful column by Anne Lamot. I'm a huge fan of hers, but had no idea she was writing accessible stuff over there, so I thank you immensely for the link.
And don't worry, Anita -- the teen years are not necessarily all that bad. Her column did remind me of a time when some infraction or other had caused me to hustle my son into his room (probably in hopes that I would not strangle him in the kitchen) at the door to which he turned and said "This is that last time you get to send me to my room, Mom -- I'm too big for this now!" (Sigh) How do they know this stuff?
But your sweet Conor has a long way to go before the slobbery kisses stop coming, Anita, and even if there's a bit of a bad spell in the middle, he's really not going to go bad on you between now and adulthood.
Enjoy the smooches, though -- they're more than likely to turn into just a passing grunt of acknowledgement on down the road -- at least for a while.
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