The past few days have been rush-rush-rush busy for us. Last night, I was reminded about the wonderfulness of the "here and now" that comes with having a toddler in the family. Ted was painting. I was doing laundry/packing. Both of us were running around the place while Abe was happily "cooking" with his small skillet and plastic shovel. He's trailing me wherever I go, which isn't unusual. He sits down on the bottom step of the stairway, holds out one hand towards me, and says, "Mom! Hand. Come."
I hesitate for a second. I look at him, thinking about the mounds of work that still need to get done before I can go to bed. But Abe never breaks his stare, keeps his hand stretched out, and says, "Come." So I do.
As I move towards him to sit down, he scooches over to make room for me, smile on his face. I say, "What do you want to do?" Then we sing the alphabet song, his favorite. When it's over, this happens:
Abe leans over and puts his head on my lap, sticks his thumb in his mouth, and says, "Thank you." No kidding. So sweet...until: he lets out a long, deep, rumbling fart, the kind that smells like sulfur, the kind you would expect to hear from the drunk Otis after he'd fallen off his bar-stool. He looks up at me, raises one eyebrow, and smiles through the thumb still in his mouth.
I so love this boy, smelly farts and all.
How Abe entertains himself while his parents work:
Julie has a way with words. I love that she recently described Abe as "Seretonin in a pair of stride-rites." We are so lucky.