Tuesday, April 21, 2009

He won't call me mama, but he sniffs my hair.

Sometimes the realizations of Jack's innermost thoughts and feelings are manifest in ways that require some really creative translation.

He missed me today and I could tell, because the first thing he did after body slamming me when he got off the bus was to grab a tangled wad of my curls, press it against his face, and inhale deeply. I suppose comfort smells like Pantene to him.

Sophie told me I'm a very "'telligent Mom", and Noel didn't entirely roll his eyes at the comment, so I'll take that as a double compliment.

Were it not for the fact that I fell off the deck trying to step onto a folding chair, absent-mindedly put on a shirt that had deodorant marks all over the sides, went outside in it, and did yardwork for half an hour, and am pretty certain the neighbors saw me riding my seven-year-old's very small "princess" bike up the alley because I was too lazy to walk it back to the garage, I could almost feel like a real winner...

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