I can hear W clapping to the Curious George soundtrack in his room. His little palms smack loudly. It’s both sporadic and meaningful. Lately he’s been spending a lot of time playing in his room, exploring, creating, and destroying. I adore hearing his sweet voice as he talks to his cars and trucks, pretends to be a cat, makes up words to Farajaca and reads to himself. These moments in the day are precious gifts.
The other night the Hubs had a gig so W and I were tandem for the evening. As bedtime drew near, I abandoned the greatly insisted upon idea of reading the same five out of 50 books he owns and turned on the TV instead. I’m the best mom ever, I know, I know. I unfolded his Spongebob Squarepants couch and we squeezed in together. This actually means that my arse end is hanging off the edge and my weight is deforming the box-shaped frame. Spiderman 2 was on. W knows who Spiderman is but not what he’s about. Since it was a relatively calm moment in the film, we tuned in for a few minutes. It was the scene where Kirsten Dunst is at a café with Tobey Maguire and she asks him if he still loves her. During this time, W moved from being wedged in the couch to sitting on my belly. Tobey says he doesn’t love her and her character is obviously pained by this. W is engrossed by the intensity of her expression although he doesn’t understand what is going on, or so I thought. She whispered, “Kiss me. Kiss me. I have to know something. Kiss me…” or something like that. W suddenly turned to me and whispered, “Kiss me.” I burst out laughing. He did it again and started to slowly lean in all slobbery lipped. The humor of it quickly reached a super creepy level and I gently pushed him back. He gave it another go and seemed to enjoy my second grader’s reaction. In an instant his attention turned to a car flying into the plate glass window of the café and I was saved by some kick ass special effects.
Seriously y’all, that intimate kissy moment gave me the hebegeebees something fierce. What’s up with this kid?
