For Spencer

I'm claiming you as my valentine this year, bub. 

I figure I can for a few years yet.

And, oh, there are lots of things to love about you.

You are ever energetic. Full of fun. You never admit fatigue. But occasionally (less and less often with each passing month), you stumble over and ask, "Mom, can you hol' me to rock?"
 

And I say, "Yeesssssssssss."

Sometimes you fall asleep there in my arms, sometimes you just catch your breath before the next adventure.  I love both scenarios. 

And I'm not the only one in our house who loves to baby you. 

Although, as much as Lucy loves you, you are often the bane of her existence.

You have an enormous appetite.  I can't seem to keep you full.  Fifteen minutes after eggs and potatoes for breakfast, you require an apple and a spoon full of peanut butter. 

You're not too picky about food, but there are some things you don't like.  One night after a bite or two of dinner, you said to me (in all politeness), "Mom, can you not feed this to me?  It's too yucky."

(Smile.  I don't even remember what I served!)

Sugar is always a go, though.  A few Sundays back, I fell asleep while you and Lucy were watching a movie.  When I woke up you were standing in front of me with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.  When you saw that I was awake, you oozed,  "I'm rilly rilly sorry I ate all of Lucy's gumballs, Mom."   

Last fall, a good friend gifted us a big bucket of red vines.  I pulled out a few pieces for a movie night shortly thereafter, thinking you and your sis would hit the ceiling in excitement.  You did,  but Lucy looked at me in disdain and said, "I don't like licorice."  (????!)

Weeks prior to that, we'd picked up a little Cafe Rio for dinner and I'd about had a heart attack when I looked at you and Lu eating your quesadillas and realized I had no one to share my salad with.  The crisis was averted when I offered Lucy a bite and she proceeded to eat as much salad as Dad ever did.  

So on that night when she wrinkled her nose at my proffered red vines, she tried to ease the offense by reminding me, "But I am your salad buddy!!!" 

A few seconds later, you added (mouth full of licorice), "An I'm yur treat buddy!!!!" 

You're also my Go-Fish! buddy, and my stories-on-the-bed buddy, and my put-together-furniture,

and sand-old-frames,

and help-at-Lucy's-school-every-week buddy.

(This happened to be pajama day for all first graders.  But you come to school pajama clad most other days, too)

 

You're getting to be a proficient little reader.

And quite a little artist.  (This video makes me laugh and laugh!  It captures you so well!)

At night your little fingers mechanically stroke my cheek and my lips as you fall asleep, the way Lucy used to twirl my hair.

 

And every Sunday, I lose my resolve to cut off your curls.

"Maybe next week,"  I tell myself.

We spent Saturday afternoon outside, swinging with Lucy in the sunshine.  

(You always insist on a hat, often one of Dad's.) After several minutes of holding you on my lap and trying to catch Lucy on our swing, your little voice burst out enthusiastically,

"Best! Day! Ever!!!" (a la Tangled.  You also watch your fair share of movies/TV!)

Spud, you make every day feel like the best day ever and I'm *so*

*grateful*

*you're mine*