Thursday, February 04, 2010

little boy love and weighing in.

Corey pulled up a chair next to me tonight and shared his blanket as we snuggled and I cut coupons.

It sounded so sweet until that last part, I know. But I was making my way through a mountain of newspaper inserts and he wanted to sit on me. We decided it was just as fun to sit right by each other for tonight and so he went and got his blanket and a chair, parked next to me, and spread the blanket over both of us.

When he opened up his blanket, a beanie wolf fell out and I said, "You had a stowaway!" He didn't understand, so I explained how a stowaway is someone who wants to travel but can't afford to pay for the trip so he sneaks on the boat (or plane or wagon or whatever) and rides and then sneaks away. He absolutely loved the idea of a stowaway and he told everyone who came through the room about his "ummmm......what's that word again? The one who sneaks on the boat?" He must have asked me six times. "Stowaway" is not an easy word to remember.

Oh, the cuteness.

Then he tells me how much he loves me. (I am fully aware that I just switched verb tenses and would not tolerate it in a student's paper, but it's my blog and there are no grades, and I am not fixing it.) And I tell him that I love him more than he loves me. This is a daily little conversation, but then he changes it and tells me not to love him too much. I think he's going to say I need to make sure and love Daddy and the other kids too, but he says, "You need to love God the most." So sweet.

So we talk about how we have lots of love to spread around and that God can have all our love and we still can love each other and how loving God actually gives us more love to share with each other. Then he says, "Mom. I have 280 pieces of love." And I acted like I was extremely impressed because I am pretty sure it was the biggest number he could think of.

So I wrote that part down so it wouldn't get lost forever.

Okay, the weigh-in. I weighed at the doctor's office yesterday. His scale weighed me eleven pounds heavier than the one I have at home! It was a little sad, but I happen to know that I did not gain 11 pounds in 6 hours, so I'm not going to worry about it. It is better to only pay attention to the one scale I weigh on consistently, I know.

I am already feeling so much better. It's amazing what a bunch of bacteria can do to one's health...

Tomorrow is Hair Day. Haircut and color. I am planning to take a picture before I go so I can document the white line down my head that is the roots of my hair. White. Just like my sweet dad. White. Almost completely white. I just cannot be white-haired at 42 years old. Hence, Hair Day. (I taught transition words in Writing today.)

And now, I will abruptly end this post. Thrifty Thursday tomorrow...although I won't feel very thrifty after Hair Day. Maybe I'll get all those coupons sorted. That's thrifty.

Good night!

[Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life. Proverbs 16:31]


Kendra said...

I'm certain I will be white haired by age 42. I'm salt and pepper haired at 38. Lots of salt. I'm running out of pepper.

Keri Lee Sereika said...

I adore your writing Stacey...each time I find myself reading your blog I get sucked in, completely absorbed and in a trance...until one of the kids hollers out "muuuooooooooooooommmmmm"!!!!!!!!!!!