The Purplest

Yesterday I went on and on about the similarities between N and I and how I found that a bit distressing, and more than a little odd.

It is Birthday Week here for the boys so I thought I should talk about Z a little more.

I get these often from Z, and, in a way, that is all you need to know.  Here is another picture that tells our story:

(Yes that is a knife in my hand, ignore that, really, forget about it.)  You see, that is how we often are, he and I, close.  He cuddles most mornings with me, watches TV in my lap, gives me numerous hugs before bed, and likes to run his hands through my beard when we talk.  He likes to contradict me, he forces my hand sometimes, he knows the words to all the songs I sing and I know he loves me.  And, as a parent, that means everything.

There is a great children's book by Barbara M. Joosse titled I Love You the Purplest in which a mother tells one son she loves him the reddest when he asks who she loves the most, the other boy she tells she loves him the bluest.  Together she loves them the purplest.

Well, that's the way it is with kids, you love them all, but you love them differently.  One you might love from the soul, without even beginning to understand it.  The other you might love from your head, loving their character and personality.  One child exasperates you, but, behind that, your love for them shows because you only want the best for them.  We love them all from the heart though, with that eternal love we all came with, the one we so easily forget we have.

I love Z with a love that is inexplicable, transcendent, and pure.

I love that the other day I found him, supposedly getting his jammies on, with the pj pants on, a different shirt was on his body, you know, a playshirt, and the jammie top was in his hand.  He wore a very perplexed grin because it just dawned on him what he had done.  I asked him what he was doing and he said, with a giggle in his throat, "I don't know."

I love that he likes rules, and math.

I love that he dances with joy spontaneously and frequently.

I secretly love that he stands up eating, I don't know why, but it seems so damn cute to me.  It should infuriate me.

I love that he sings along with the television show theme songs.  Hey Word Girl is tricky.

I love that he loves me so.

So, I guess that these last couple of posts haven't been too witty or clever.  I trust this sentimental slop hasn't chased you away for good.  I'd like to think someday the boys might see these posts, these confessions of mine, and rest easier.  Perhaps they will better understand the ultimate love story that is the parent child relationship.  Perhaps they will find some useful truth about my truly unconditional love for them in these words.

Perhaps they will understand I will love them the purplest, "always and forever."

(You disregarded the knife, right?  Totally forgot about it, okay?  Thanks.)

From Marci's ...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat..."

Zack:  "Gimme an E!"

Nick:  "E!"

Zack:  "Gimme a B!"

Nick:  "B"

Zack:  "Gimme an E!"

Nick:  "E!"

Zack:  "Gimme an S!

Nick:  "S!"

Zack:  "What's it spell?"

Nick:  "I don't know ..."

(pause)

Zack:  "Me either ..."

I shouted "Ebes," it's a river somewhere, I think...