June 10, 2016 by Marj Hatzell
It’s been a heck of a week, y’all.
You know the drill. Lack of sleep, tummy issues, the older one has a horrible hacking cough and missed school today (16th day this year. Only four more school days to go!) and the younger one has been making me earn my pay this week (LIES. I work for free).
Then there was some house frustration (stolen garden panda. More on that another time), dogs that do stupid things (like eat two pounds of freshly grilled chicken because I was dumb enough to turn my back for a second), and a husband who has barely been home from work. And when he is home he’s still working. Basically 24 hours a day.
Bugaboo loves the local Mediteranean place and asks for Greek salad at least twice a week. And since it’s full of vegetables (MY KID EATS VEGETABLES, Y’ALL), I oblige because VEGETABLES. Since we were concerned about the fact he couldn’t gain weight a mere two years ago, I buy all the Greek salad he wants. Because VEGGIES and EATING and it turns out those directly contribute to a child’s growth. Who knew! Tonight he asked and I was all, “YES BECAUSE IT IS ONE LESS THING I HAVE TO PREPARE FOR DINNER!”
Except they had just run out of Greek salad.
And it really didn’t go over well with the Bugaboo.
The owner knows us well. He’s a kind man who once told me, “I love that guy! He’s in my heart!” when I stopped in once without the Bugaboo. He has given us all sorts of freebies and has grossly undercharged us on many ocassions. Tonight he witnessed the look of sheer terror on my face when he told me they had run out, and offered to make it fresh right then. But he needed 20-30 minutes to do so. I naively figured it was fine and Bugaboo would understand that we were going to run home, change his clothes (we had just come from the pool), and head back for the Greek Salad.
Except he cried for 30 minutes. Apparently I’m new here.
So I started dinner for the rest of us. We went back to get the Greek salad and not only was it freshly prepared, but they had it ready to go in a container for us. (Y’all. These people. So kind.)
Aaaaaans then we pulled up the driveway at home and I smelled the charred chicken I had apparently forgotten about in the grill, due to being so frazzled about a sobbing child and going back to get Greek salad. See the part above about the crappy week. I’m winning!
After Bugaboo polished off his beloved Greek salad, we sat outside and tossed a ball for our spazzy border collie. Bugaboo was super snugly and cute and giggly and happy. He let me put my hand on his face and touch his cheek. But then something amazing (and rare) happened.
He insisted I keep my hand on his face and he curled into me. So I asked him if I could love on him a bit and give him hugs and kisses. He nodded yes. When I got a good amount of hugs and Kisses and pretended to “eat the Ian” (still one of his favorites) I stopped and pulled away, because that’s usually more than enough for him. That’s when he grabbed my hands, pulled me towards him and signed, “More. I Love You.”
MORE I LOVE YOU.
You guyzzzzzz he made a connection. He gets it. He know what love is and he wanted more.
MORE I LOVE YOU.
You bet your arse I gave him all the hugs and kisses he asked for until he had enough. Because I’ve been waiting thirteen years to hug and kiss my child because he asked me to.