You used to get so mad when I would call you “Silly Goose”. I have caught myself calling you that and then immediately have defaulted to “Goose” in hopes it just slips right past you and I don’t get the whole “Mom, I am not silly!”
You haven’t noticed and it’s kinda become habit. So now you’re just Goose. I rather like it.
I am about to confirm something you thought all along about your Mama,…I am cru-azy!
Granted, it’s very late. I am very tired and I am trying to tidy up for another day filled with love, and giggles, and cuddles from you and your sister. I looked inside your lunchbox to clear out the leftovers from school and marveled at how this silly little Tupperware box featuring Lighning McQueen made you smile.
I chuckled at how excited you were to take a sandwich to school today because you got to use it. Then I opened it up and was pleasantly surprised to see how much you had eaten. I was proud of you Little Man. You ate well today. And I got teary-eyed seeing your little bite marks in it.
I thought back at this afternoon and how I just might have seen some evidence of that sandwich on your face all afternoon. I couldn’t account for what the smudge on your face was but I was ok with it because it meant you were having such a good time you didn’t even bother to wipe it away. I imagined you eating that sandwich with both hands, and the sides of it touching your precious little cheeks as you bit straight into the middle of it.
Silly. Crazy. Weird. Emotional. I know. But I don’t care. I take pleasure in these moments where I get to be so utterly and unabasheldy thankful for the life that is in you.
I love you all the way to Jesus. And the only love that is greater than that is His. That’s a whole lotta love Goose.
(Mother as you have recently started calling me-this has to stop soon-but not too soon because I secretly
like love it)