Just a split-second in the bath, in between bouts of his being fairly unhappy about the shampoo.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: this boy makes me crazy with love for him. The must bite a chunk out of him while making growly animal sounds kind of love. It’s amazing how qualitatively different the love is that he inspires, compared to that of his sister.

Quantity for both? Infinite, of course.  Or if there’s an ending point to it, I certainly can’t make it out. But the love for one wafts in, like Carl Sandburg’s San Francisco fog, “on little cat feet,” with fairy wings, diaphanous, breathtaking.  This one? A freight train. Carrying lions. So much for worrying about there being enough love to spread around to a second child.  As everyone says, your heart expands, effortlessly, to meet the new production demands.  And because each child is miraculously unique, so will your love for them be.

I got so tired of seeing t-shirts that proclaimed, from the standpoint of the kid, that the kid believed something (cool, or politically in line with the parents, etc.) — even stuff that I believed in! hell, I’ve stuck my kid in ‘em! — that I went out and made a t-shirt that really told the truth.

You can buy one right here, and help his college fund.  By then, I’m pretty sure he’ll be literate.  Whether or not he’ll still be talking to me is another thing altogether.