So I had a whole little post planned for today about how Simon imitates me. I wrote it last night and was planning to edit and post today. I’ll get around to it still—Friday perhaps?—but it’s been backburnered by Simon’s actions today.
Because today Simon loved the heck out of me. I mean, he really, really loved me with an ardor and consistency that charmed my socks off. How did Simon love me? Let me count the ways:
He loved me when he wanted to hold my hand on the couch.
He loved me when he insisted on sitting on my lap to watch Cars.
He loved me when he wrapped my arms around his waist and then held them in place to ensure a tight snuggle.
He loved me when he let out a sigh during dinner and leaned over to kiss me.
He loved me when he giggled like mad while we played a hand-stacking game.
He loved me when he melted into my arms at bedtime.
And he loved me when, as I was lifting him out of his high chair after dinner, he reached out to me, took a lock of my hair into his hand, cooed, and said:
Mommy hair. Pretty hair. Pretty.
I’ve only ever heard him use that word (“pretty”) once, and then it was two weeks ago and in a totally different context. I didn’t know he knew the word or how to use it. And I have to say, having endured a rather difficult couple of days at work, it was a sentiment that made my occupational worries recede into the background and cast a warm glow on the whole day. For that matter, it will go a long ways towards getting me through tomorrow, too.
Probably was your own curly hair, not that blow dried version we were talking about last month. Pretty hair.