At the blissful age of four, my son has found true love. Our first hint at his infatuation came one afternoon after preschool when he confessed, “I love CeCe’s hair, but she does not want me to touch it.” We knew there was more to this story, but simply applauded him for exercising restraint.
Soon Chunky was insisting that we stay late after school so he could play extra with CeCe, who also stays late. As I observed them, I had to wonder if CeCe’s method of entrapping my son wasn’t somewhat similar to how I landed my hubby. Basically, follow him around, do everything he does, chatter a lot, and occasionally attack-hug him out of nowhere. Hey, you don’t mess with a tried and true method.
Chunky’s crush permeates our lives now. He’s always making plans about what he and CeCe will do when they grow up. These include sharing cupcakes, painting the house green (our house that is, since he intends to live with us even after he weds.) One day, out of the blue, he furrowed his barely-there blond brows and said, “My brother better not ever touch my girlfriend because she DOES NOT LIKE to be touched.” Good words to live by.
While the adults in the house are constantly hiding giggles at Chunky’s dedication, I must confess I’m a little proud of his kind spirit. He is so selfless in his admiration, even denying his favorite habit—playing with hair. But there’s more. Those of you who know me, know that I avoid the cheese factor at all costs. I’m not overly sentimental, but when your kids do something that causes Heaven to spill into your everyday life, I figure it ought to be shared.
One day, Chunky and I were sitting together, and he asked me why God made big people. Thinking he was confused about how adults come about, I explained that everybody is born a baby and then grows up.
“No, no, Mommy. Why did God make people?” he asked.
I was blown away by his question, but I tried to make my answer coherent for a four-year-old. I told him God made people to bring glory to Him, and that it’s our job to tell other people how great God is.
Chunky grinned. “I want to tell CeCe how great God is.” He paused and frowned, “But I don’t know where she lives.”
Oh! Heart squeezing! Eyes misting! Mommy pride soaring off the charts! I know, it’s sappy, but how could I not brag about my extaordinary little guy who will one day make a fantastic husband—even if he does move back in with mom and dad and paint the house green.
The Writer Who Speaks
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