All the time I’ll be growing/Growing up beside you
My Jackie is an independent little man. He’s a bruiser, skateboarding down huge ramps fearlessly, wriggling out of my attempted snuggles more times than I’d like to admit, and being, in general, too cool for school.
Cooler than me for sure. CLICK HERE for some irrefutable evidence.
But ever since he was little, he’s had the sweetest habit of picking me flowers. From the tiny little blue squills that pop up in our yard in the spring, to our neighbor’s tulips, to geraniums from the potted plants on the downtown square. Whether he ought to our not, when he sees a flower he likes, he plucks it for his mama.
He gives it to me with nothing more than a, “Here you go, Mama,” and I put them in teeny vases or cups. Because his little gesture of love deserves a gesture of love in return.
And because even though he’s an independent little man, he’s still my little man.