It was just before bedtime. I was carrying the Pumpkin Man, his head on my chest, and we were heading into the book room to do our reading and I said something that ended with, “my son.” Maybe it was, “do two Hail Marys and three Our Fathers, my son.” Probably not though.
He said back, “You’re my son.”
I said, “No. You’re my son.”
He said, “You’re my son.”
I said, “No. I’m you’re daddy, you’re my son.”
He said, “No. You’re my son.”
I said, “Do you mean ‘son’ like ‘son and daddy’ or ‘sun’ like the ‘sun that shines outside’.”
He leaned back and looked at me and said, “The sun goes up. The sun goes down. You’re my sun.”
I can’t even express in words how much that makes me the winner. Big winner. Right Here.
A version of this first appeared on Musings from The Big Pink.