On Monday little T cried because he said something he made for me at school that said “Happy Mother’s Day” on it, and had put in his backpack to give me right away, wasn’t there when we got home. I had to tell him his teacher probably was holding it until today, so I’d get it right before Mother’s Day.
Today he was beside himself, because he had it in his bag! Along with a sweet card and a mix to make a fruit dip, was this:
His drawing of me:
And all about me:
The stuff in here is so perfectly observant and spot-on (like, how does he ‘get’ that I’m tall?), or completely wrong (I’m actually blond with blue eyes & despise hamburgers).
Stuff like this, my almost-five-year-old son’s words being forever documented for me, his dad, him, his future bride and kids to see….well, this is what I’m talking about. This is the good stuff, the reason I didn’t sell him on Etsy while in the horrific throes of Potty Training.
Man, I just love my kids.