It is the little things

So, in all my stress filled angst, I forget the little things. The Boy reminded me of some yesterday.

I'm preparing for a trip, last minute prep, food in the fridge - let me stop here and explain - My husband is a trained chef. But, for some unknown reason, when I go away even for a couple days, he forgets he knows how to cook and so he doesn't. I call and say "what have you eaten" he says "I couldn't find anything". So, I leave the house fully stocked in the hopes he will feed my son.

So, where was I, oh yes, I'm preparing. Washing and folding clothes. the whole nine yards. The boy comes out in Spider Man underwear as if he has just swung from a building, holding a small comb in his hair and says: "Mama! Don't I look sharp?" Did I mention the comb in his hair - like a pik in a banger's hair?

Much laughter ensues.

Then it is bed time, where for the five millionth time we discuss why his bed is where he sleeps and not where he goes for punishment when he says: "I can't sleep let's eat pie."

Since he is of course a boy after my own heart, down the stairs we went. The DH was getting home at that time 11:45 p.m. (my boy doesn't sleep at night). He fixed himself a meatball sandwich or two and the Boy and I got into some mighty yummy banana creme pie.

There we were, the three of us, sitting at the counter in the kitchen having meatballs and banana pie. The boy, with creme all over his face turns to the DH and says, "So, talk to me, tell me about your day." Pie shot out of my nose!

So we "discuss" recent events - like the car accident my babysitter's family was in on Thursday with my son in the car. He wasn't injured because he and their son were not in their car seats but were laying flat on the seats with seatbelts around them and arms crossed at their chests (they had fallen asleep). Had either of them been in car seats, they would have been injured! Anyway, the DH says that when he got to the scene, the police were asking the requisite questions when they asked what my son's name etc. was and he said:

"My name is [boy]. I live in [west podunk] on [our road]. My birthday is March 10 but I can't remember the year. I am four." Apparently the cop was duly impressed - as was I.

So, at 12:15 a.m. this morning we talked about current events, pretended to "enhance our mental capacity and unlock untold secrets of the mind" (too much tv, sorry) with banana creme pie and laughed until our sides hurt.

It is the little things.

So, this morning as I dressed for work and looked over at the sleeping DH and Boy - who still managed to end up in my bed - I took in their similarities. The identical sleeping pose, the hair lines - the penchant for late night pie - and I said wistfully - "It's the little things" and off to work I went.

Have a fabulous day Y'all.