Alex told me a story today:
Once there was a little boy named Alex and he was taking a walk in the sun. And he found a treasure chest filled with dimes. Then a giant walked by and picked Alex up and reached up high into is beanstalk and set him down. Then Alex climbed down the beanstalk again and he walked in the sun again, except now he shrank to the size of an ant. The giant took a walk in the sun and got all burnt up. Then the sun grew and grew into a big sun. Then it got mushed.
The end.
Sometime during the night Max either wandered into our room, or John brought him in because he woke up and he didn't want him waking Alex too. Either way, its 6AM and I'm trying to convince Max, who's snuggled up next to me, to sleep just a little bit longer. Not that I feel it's too early to get up, it's already three hours later than my usual wake up time, I'm just really enjoying being warm and snuggly in my bed at the moment and don't much feel like getting up to watch Elmo.
Max reaches his little arm up and puts his hand on my chest. "I yuh you Mom"
The first time your child tells you he loves you, un prompted, not because you said it first, just because, at that moment, he loves you. I've always known Max loves me, but to hear it out of the blue like that, well, that's the best gift my boy could give me.
Max is fearless. He has no idea he's not even two and really has no business climbing on the bigger kid jungle gyms. We go to the park and he runs right after his brother up the ladders, down the slides, across the bridges. Jumping, running, sliding, climbing... "Look at me!" he shouts at me from the top of the highest play structures. "Stop it mom!" he yells at me if I try to help him up the ladder. "I did it!" he squeals when he makes it to the top himself, "I did it Mommy! Look at me!"
