it was NOT the peanut butter

my son has recuperated nicely from his recent stint of hugely disgusting, pitifully painful, air putrefying illness. diagnosis - blastocystic hominis. from what i can tell by googling this - he got it on his last visit to a third world country...

anywho, his sweet little bones are not poking out any more - 'cept where they are supposed to. his cheeks are round and rosy again. not hollow and pale. his personality is back in full swing - and then some. it's as if he has to make up for lost time.

he woke from his nap yesterday full of piss and vinegar. he father picked him up out of his bed and deposited him in my lap on the couch.
son immediately demanded "i want a 'nola bar NOW!"

TRANSLATED: "May I please have a granola bar dear sweet mother?"

so i threw him a curve ball.

i casually asked in my deflecting i'm-gonna-try-to-get-you-to-eat-an-apple mother tone "You want a sucker?"

"NO! I want a..... YEAH!" HIS EYES BIG. MOUTH OPEN. "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY MOTHER" stare.

i laughed until i cried

that was fun

i need more moments like that

don't we all...