Little things

Sometimes its just the little things that I want to remember.

Arriving home from a weekend away, and Toby saying, 'Thank you for coming home mummy. It's so lovely to have you home.'

Kissing him goodnight, just before I go to bed. Watching him as he sleeps, all sweaty, his body thrown across the bed in his own crazy fashion. It's the only time these days when he still looks so little.

His made up word, FUNCH. He substitutes it for other words in unexpected ways that make us laugh. And that makes him laugh. I love that he loves to be such a joker.

Learning to say 'yellow' instead of lellow. He practised, hard. And the look of pure shock and joy on his face the first time he said it naturally, with out having to think. I would like to remember that face forever.

The way he whispers about things that he knows I don't like. And likes to mention these things as often as possible too. He tells me he would like to tell me something. I bend down for him to whisper in my ear, 'I would like a tattoo one day'. Sometimes its a gun, or a cigarette. I am horrified by his fascination with these things, but I'm trying to pretend otherwise. It's the shock value that he likes.

And tonight. We arrived home from work eagerly. Without saying a word to one another we both started putting our pyjamas on immediately. We went upstairs and I put on "Pumped up Kicks" LOUD. We just looked at each other, sparkles in our eyes and without a word to one another ran over to the sofa, laughing, and started dancing like crazy things.  And Toby's moves are just so cool. He was doing hand stands against the cushions, and back spins on the floor, big star jumps in the air. We got so frantic we had to tun the air conditioning on, even on an autumnal evening.

It's these little things that are the best bits of all.