Tonight my boy and I sat on the kitchen floor and swirled paint around on a little plastic plate, mixing the yellow and the red together with our fingers. I laid out a big piece of paper and we made swirls and handprints and didn’t stop until the paper was so wet with paint that it was starting to curl.
My life, at that moment, felt entirely perfect. Me and my boy, painting with our fingers, talking about colors, making a mess, together.
He won’t remember this later on in life. I hope that I will. I want to remember this totally ordinary, perfect time with this boy who is growing too fast, racing steadily toward becoming the big boy he already thinks he is.
Tonight we made orange paint with our fingers and then ate blueberries for dinner and sat on the couch snuggling before bed. I am his mama and he is my Bobo and we are happy.