I've been recording Mog's silly sayings in a little notebook, and lately it seems that I write in it at least once a day.
This morning, he was lying in bed with me and Eli, dozing off and on, and he rolled over, sighed, and looked at me face to face. He put his finger gently on my nose and said, "I like your big nose. Now let's go play cars!"
I laughed and laughed. It was like he was trying to butter me up with a compliment so that I'd be sure to jump out of bed and play with him. Silly boy.
Yesterday evening: "Hey Mom--I know a game called hopping!" And he takes off down the hallway to demonstrate.
Yesterday morning, climbing into his carseat: "This is a mess, Momma. You need a carwash."
It's such a daily pleasure to be around him at this age. I don't know where the phrase "terrible two's" comes from, because Mog cracks me up on such a regular basis that I can't possibly get too frustrated with him over breaking things, or spilling juice, or refusing to sit on the potty.
Yes, he is headstrong, and willful at times. But he's so incredible.
I'm enjoying this phase of his life SO much more than I did the infant stage. Sure, there were those tender moments when I would hold him in the wee hours of the morning and just inhale the scent of the top of his head. But that doesn't hold a candle to the conversations we've been having lately. He's been noticing the bareness of the trees, and he asks where all the leaves have gone. I explain about seasons, about cold and warmth, death and rebirth. He nods his head like a little sage as he takes it all in. He tells me to open the windows so that he can see the trees.
As we ride along in my car with the windows rolled down, slowly crunching through the gravel down our long lane towards the highway, the cool autumn air flows into the car, ruffling our hair. I look back at him and see him squint and smile as the morning sunlight shines upon his face.
I want to write this moment. Photograph it. Scrapbook it. Bottle and save it. Curl up inside it and stay for eternity.
Too soon we're turning onto the highway. I close the windows; we pick up speed. And away we go.