my momma's soup

on a recent car ride:

me: "punky, you have to stay my baby forever ok?"

him: "until i'm 13, ok?"

me: "13?!?!?  that's only 5 more years!"

him: "ok, 15."

me: (sad face and puppy dog eyes)

him: "fine, 100!"

me: "i'll take that deal.  i'll be very, very old by then, baby!"

him: "i'll make you soup.  lots of kinds of warm soup!"

me: i smile, and tell him that the last thing my grandfather ate before he passed away was my homemade french onion soup.  he loved it.

him: "well, right before you pass away, i'm gonna make you a special soup called "my momma's soup."

me: "what does it have in it?"

him: "my special tomato sauce, bay leaf, celery, carrots, green beans, and peas."

i scribble the recipe down on a nearby napkin and try desperately to hide the big ol' alligator tears that are welling up in my eyes as i try to imagine the day when our roles are reversed. when this boy - who forgets  that he's old enough to tie his own shoes, fall asleep without my presence, or serve himself a snack - is the one tying my shoes, making me feel safe and serving me a snack.