He is a typical 9 year old boy. He loves to joke about farts and burps and anything else that will elicit a squeal or eye roll from his sisters over how gross he is. In his opinion, girls are gross, well except for his sisters and his mom…and Jodie’s dance teachers…the ones who are Oakland Raiders’ cheerleaders and have appeared on So You Think You Can Dance this season. Oh and kissing…you know, that kissing they do on TV when the hero and the heroine are at long last reunited? Ewwww! Are you kidding me? Yes, that is absolutely, positively gross.
Like I said, he is a typical 9 year old boy. I love that about him. I love it a lot.
I also love that in spite of his view on kissing, he still wants and needs good night kisses from his mama. It has become a ritual of ours. He kisses me on both cheeks and then a quick kiss on the lips followed by a hug where we rock back and forth, back and forth…and then I must kiss him on both of his soft cheeks then on the lips followed by another hug where we rock back and forth, back and forth.
Last night, after our good night kisses he looked up at me and smiled then observed, “We’re kind of weird aren’t we, Mom.“
“Yes. I guess we are kind of weird, Son.” I brush his too long hair away from his beautiful eyes. “But we are the best kind of weird.“
“Yes we are!” He gives me one last hug then skips off to bed.
We are the best kind of weirdos.