Although it has never been diagnosed, my son suffers from some OCD tendencies. I have no idea where he gets it. Hold on, I have to go straighten my underwear drawer.
One aspect of this is that he gets fixated on shapes and numbers. For a while, his favorite number was 109. He would use it to measure time and count toys, and when he would eye the clock shortly after lunch to see it reading 1:09, it gave him quite a thrill.
Luckily for us, last year he took to the number 10. This made it easier when we had to take 10 steps from the house to the garage, or give him 10 kisses each night. After 109 kisses on a kid’s forehead, your lips start to get numb.
But recently, the digits have been taken to a much higher level. His new favorite? Infinity. And, although I know infinity isn’t a number to which you can count, I will never tire of hearing him say, “Mom, I love you to infinity.”
After one sleepless night, one ruined laptop cord, wood floors which have sustained three pees, two poops and one vomit, and after our 11 year old dog, Blue, has done a lot of growling and huffing about because Daisy thinks her ears are a chew toy….it was especially nice to wake up today and see them being snuggle buddies.
Daisy is lucky that she’s so cute.
Note: In the time it took me to post this, I’ve cleaned up one more pee and a vomit. She’s really, really lucky that she’s so cute.
I currently have a part-time job, three writing gigs, a workaholic husband, two kids (who both play sports) and a son in speech therapy one afternoon a week. So, it only seems logical that we went out today and got this.
Daisy, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Daisy.
My son will be seven in a few weeks, but he looks more like a four year old. The cardiologist says it’s because of his GI problems, and the gastroenterologist says it’s because of his heart. The geneticist threw her hands up and said, “It’s not us!” All we know is that he’s small.
Lately, however, he appears to be going through a growth spurt. In order to boost his confidence I mentioned it last night.
I eyed my boy, then looked at my husband and said, “Doesn’t he look bigger?” Then I turned to my son and said, “You’re huge!”
Taking this as a valid compliment, my son looked up at me and said, “YOU’RE huge!” and in order to one-up my comment, he added, “Actually, you’re HUGE-MONGOUS!”
I tilted my head towards my husband and said, “Uh-oh.” I backpedaled and explained that calling a woman “huge” isn’t really a compliment, but it’s okay when you are talking about a boy’s muscles.
My son looked at his dad and said, “Yeah. Like Daddy’s.”
Somehow this whole thing completely backfired on me.