“What is WRONG with him?”
“He’s a baby, and he’s hungry, and that’s the only way he can talk to us.”
“Well, we’ve got PLENTY of food … he doesn’t have to go hungry like that.
They head for the cupboard and pull our cans of brown beans, chicken noodle soup — “How about pasta, would he like Pasta?”
They used to sit by you while you sat in your carrier, and they whispered lullabies to you — specifically, “The Batman Theme Song.” They dressed you in capes and superhero T-Shirts before you could properly sit up.
You captivated us with your beautiful doe-like eyes.
You still like to dress-up as knights and superheros, although you want to hide this from your kindergarten peers.
Your favorite book is still Blue Bowl Down: An Appalachian Rhyme, you love snicker-doodles, and you like one-on-one time with Mom and Dad. You love the broth of chicken-noodle soup, and your favorite song is still, You’ve Got A Friend in Me.” And, you’re a good little worker…
You melted my heart when you said, “I was the only person in the whole school who got to play a game with their Mom at school today… And that means I’m the luckiest kid in the whole school.”
You respect your friends, and you’re open-minded enough to assume that everyone IS your friend. You expect grownups to listen to you when you’re speaking, and that you “are in charge of your body.” You surprise me sometimes. You seem so tough, so defiant; you know exactly what you want and stubbornly expect nothing else. You like to stir things up — you know exactly what to say to get a brother to jump on you in an all-out wrestle…
Yet, your heart is wide-open. Willing to take all the love you can find. Perfectly assuming it’s all yours for the taking.
Oh, and thanks for the flowers.