My Boy

Henry loves me.  He told me so.  And in that moment, I melted and teared and all things mothers do the first time their progeny verbally expresses their love.  This was the high point of the night.  There had, of course, been lows.

Thursday nights Todd uses his lunch break for band practice.  I had forgotten this fact as I raced to get food made.  So the tomatoes were in the oven, pasta water at the ready and I wasd setting up to make the avocado sauce when I heard Henry start in with some minor wailing.  He was covering his left eye but I couldn't see what he had reached up for and rained down onto his face.  He pulled himself together and a spoon from the drawer and headed into the livingroom.

As it turns out, he had liberated the giant bottle of honey, onto his eye, and was now consoling himself with said honey.  I got it away from him but in doing so, released the Hulk that resides in every toddler.  He picked up the spoon and beat the sturdy Fiesta plate (a vintage one I bought years and years ago) into several pieces.  In response, I unceremoniously gathered him up, deposited him in his room and closed the door.  Time. Out.  For both of us.

We bounced back from the incident and a little while later he followed me into the loo, like he does, and as he was closing the door, his fingers got in the way.  Instant wailing.  I comforted him, stroking his cheek and told him I loved him.  He nuzzled me and tearfully said, "I love you too, Mommy."  It was the first time all those words had been strung together for my benefit.  Such sweetness! 

Of course he drives me up the bloody wall, but then he does this. He is loud and manic and draws in wildly inappropriate places on a regular basis.  He is also funny and empathetic and tender.  And he's my boy.