I completely intended to write this down last night. Which is hilarious because I didn’t get in until the evening and my Ezzie was waiting to see me! How about he’s running up to me with his Bandad’s country behind sun-hat hanging down his back (apparently, he was a turtle) and saying, “I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH! I LOVE YOU THIS MUCH!” He then proceeded to hug my legs (individually). Yeah. No writing was to get done.
So during our hours long kissfest, Ezra began singing to me. The thing is. He’s still three. And my son. Ezra. Sometimes sings to explain something to me. I’m serious. There are times when he gets overwhelmed (whether upset or happy) and he has to explain it to me in song. I’m. Not. Joking. (Example: when he’s trying to drag something across the bed of (my, not his) Auntie-Mom’s pick-up truck. He’s teary-eyed because he’s not doing it. He stops and turns to me with watery eyes and sings, “Keep trying. Keep trying. Never give up. Never give up.” It’s a song from Yo, Gabba Gabba. It pretty much kills me.) So the song he began singing almost immediately after saying how kisses make us all feel happy again? (Yeah. He said that. Josh and I could only stare at him and then at each other. Our son. Wow.) “I miss my mommy. I want my mommy. No one will get her. No one.” Those are the words I remember verbatim.
Yeah. First, let’s consider the fact that in telling me how he felt, he’s being completely cerebral and using the present tense. You can tell by his arched eye brows that he wants to express how sad he’s been for the past couple of days. But did my three year old write those lyrics?! YES. It went on beyond that, too. It went more into how much he “misses” me and more disappointment at how no one “will find her”… always repeating “no one”, more slowly and drawn out. It followed not only a melody but also a stanza composition. ARE. YOU. SERIOUS. Add this to the way he dances as though he has to because the song moves him that much, especially when he does his “sad song” (which he determines by the voice singing not by the tempo) dance that kinda resembles some sort of morning martial arts routine, complete with closed eyes occasionally… I think he got his mother’s artist soul. And because I had a million siblings, who knows if he’s years beyond my expressiveness already. Lawd.
He slays me.