He's letting his hair grow God knows how long, and his thick dark brown bangs sweep over his forehead and brush his eyelashes and cover his eyebrows.
Also, he's five, and he's intent on making decisions, and who am I to tell him his hair will never look like the curly mop Anniken sports no matter how long it grows?
So I don't.
I do instead what my heart says mothers should do, ignoring what my head insists:
I brush his bangs to the side of his face, I kiss slight the soft skin beneath and I ask him to tell me again about what he's thinking as we venture off to Mommy Night at school.
To my surprise, he wants to snap pictures of us together, and to my surprise, he won't sing the Mom song this year because it's too silly; he says he just wants to snuggle me instead.
He is so himself and so like me altogether that sometimes I cannot see where I start and he begins and how we ever merged from two in one to two in two.
Because it still seems we are very much one in the same.
|Link at Jade's today!|