He's in my bed again. The little one, Colin. Somehow he knows when I go to bed before his daddy does. Some toddler sixth sense.
"Why you wear Elmo pants to go downstairs?"
Because they're comfortable.
"Can I have some water bottle?"
Yes.
"Do you remember when I was a baby? I a big boy now."
Yes. I remember. You are so big now.
"Mommy? I really want a snuggle."
Alright.
I can't resist him. I can't resist the questions, the requests, or even the screaming. He is irresistible.
"Thank you, Mama, for taking me to Trick or Treat."
And then I melt. He thanks me randomly throughout the day for things that I would think were just passing events. Dinner, a kiss, changing his diaper, buckling his car seat are all worthy of a "thank you" sprinkled into our daily life.
He is so sweet. Until he's not. I have learned that in my family, you don't get one extreme without the other. The sweet it worth it. Possibly not in the exact moment that I'm being whacked in the face by him mid-tantrum, but in the end, the sweet is worth it.
