I remember back when I was pregnant with Bo. Back in the good old days. Back when he was contained so neatly in my belly. Limited mobility. No verbal skills. No poop creeping up his back and onto every nearby surface…
When I told people my bump would turn out a baby boy, they gave me the look. The just you wait look. And really, I couldn’t have been more skeptical. I rolled my eyes at more than a few people who tried to warn me about boys.
Mary Bullock was– I mean, is— a force of nature. Stubborn as the day is long. Personality that radiates from every pore. Hands and eyebrows that say as much as her words. As a two year old, she was exhausting. So when people warned me that boys are busy, I wondered: how much busier could it get?
Oh y’all. Those were famous last words.
The child runs me ragged.
He climbs on our countertops and eats coffee. He goes in the dishwasher and runs around the house with the kitchen shears. Try to get him to brush his teeth, and he disappears underneath Tucker’s crib and has to be dragged out by his big toe. He uses Tucker’s bouncy seat like a Bo-sized trampoline. With Tucker in it.
And speaking of Tucker, Bo loves him. Which, for Bo, translates into wrestling him while squealing– really, do your best high pitched voice here– HIIIII TUCKA WUCKA!! HIIIEEEE!!! Until Tucker cries or I peel him off, whichever comes first. There are some days when Tucker cries just to see Bo coming.
And it’s not even worth the effort to get mad at him. Even if he pouts for a while at being corrected, within minutes he’s rubbing his little hands together, plotting his next exploit.
But oh my goodness– the love. When Bo says I love you, Mama, he’s not saying it because I’ve prompted him, or because he thinks it’s what I want to hear. He’s just spilling out the contents of his heart at that moment. Sometimes I see him in the rear view mirror on the way to school with his brows knit together.
I miss you, Mommy, he says.
But I’m right here, Bo!
When I’m at ‘cool, Mommy.
He slays me daily.
Bo says nanksyoo for thank you, and I will admit that I am totally guilty of prompting him to say thank you not because it’s good manners but because I love to hear him say it.
And even though this boy
he is such a blessing to me.
So really I should be the one to say
No, Bo, nanksyoo.