You love to sharpen pens in the electric pencil sharpener.
You like to pull my earrings out.
You love to climb, climb all the way on top of desks. And game cupboards. And dressers.
You like to open programs that cause serious problems for computers, all with a few pecks of your chubby fingers.
You like to open doors, bathroom doors. Nothing is safe from your inquisitive toddler self.
You love to unroll toilet paper with astonishing speed and grace.
You like to say oh, mannn. . . just like your daddy.
You love boots that are too big for you, enthusiastic clomping, joyful destruction, that's you, my son.
Oh such joy you bring. Such a weary happiness.
I love your kisses, blown with sticky fingers.
I love hearing your feet trot across the floor.
I love hearing you say mamamama.
I love your whole little self.
You empty me out and fill me up at the very same time and I am so grateful to God for you, my son.