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.

good night

so the other night, I'm tucking my punkin pie into bed and i give him a kiss and tell him i love him to pieces.

he says, "i love you more."

"impossible," i say, "there is no love is bigger than momma love."

"yes there is," he whispers. "mine."

Sigh..

This weekend wasn't all that great.
 
Lots of adult-sized worries. 

Then, Sunday night, after bedtime stories and kisses, he snuggles up to me like a puppy and says, "I love you, Mom."

More than you will ever know, Punkin.