My unbridledly lovely wife has a birthday today. Happy birthday, my love.
For nine sweet days, she and I are the same age. Though I’ve not been as vigilant this year in reminding her of this fact as in the past, The Boy has taken up the slack. Our son, himself just out of a birthday (his third--and more about that later), decided for some reason to switch from calling her “mama” to “mom.” After two kids and nine years at a demanding job, she's still beautiful, tough, and tender, but The Boy has managed to find the most effective way to make her feel older: "Watch this, mom"; "Can I have something to drink please, mom?" He might as well have just come home from a junior-high sleepover.
(Note: Though he also drifts between “daddy” and “dad,” he hasn’t committed yet. My guess is because he hasn't yet figured out how to whine with one syllable.)
Still, when my wife comes through the door each evening, when Q and The Boy are burning through their last bits of energy for the day, they drop their blocks and trucks and balloons and books to free their arms to hold her. And The Boy always says through a huge smile, "mama!" Not bad at all.
Now let’s have some cake.
For nine sweet days, she and I are the same age. Though I’ve not been as vigilant this year in reminding her of this fact as in the past, The Boy has taken up the slack. Our son, himself just out of a birthday (his third--and more about that later), decided for some reason to switch from calling her “mama” to “mom.” After two kids and nine years at a demanding job, she's still beautiful, tough, and tender, but The Boy has managed to find the most effective way to make her feel older: "Watch this, mom"; "Can I have something to drink please, mom?" He might as well have just come home from a junior-high sleepover.
(Note: Though he also drifts between “daddy” and “dad,” he hasn’t committed yet. My guess is because he hasn't yet figured out how to whine with one syllable.)
Still, when my wife comes through the door each evening, when Q and The Boy are burning through their last bits of energy for the day, they drop their blocks and trucks and balloons and books to free their arms to hold her. And The Boy always says through a huge smile, "mama!" Not bad at all.
Now let’s have some cake.
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