Ian has two good buddies on our street. Burly boys who love to wrestle and dress up in superhero costumes to fight the bad guys. They spend hours building forts, and running around cheeks flushed creating imaginary scenarios where they rid the world of evil. Anything can serve as a crime fighting weapon: paper towel rolls, kitchen spatulas, markers, magic wands, and, of course, one of the many toy swords that have made their way into our otherwise peace loving household. I worry sometimes that while I have encouraged dancing, singing, planting sunflowers, and knowing the difference between a skip and a gallop, that I've forgotten most boys this age are far more into throwing balls. This was never more evident than a few days ago when to the sheer horror of his pals, Ian wanted to give them both hugs and kisses. They ducked their heads; the cootie talk already beginning at age four. I saw that he was confused and a little crushed at their rejection. Oh, my heart went out to this sensitive boy who will probably have to get a few Indian burns on the arms to get over that kissing thing. "Ian, you can kiss mommy anytime," I said, "I love your kisses." He ran over to me and planted a sweet one right on my cheek. Looking over at his friends he said, "Do you know why I love kissing my mom? Because she smells so good."
Could he be any sweeter? I don't care if he does decide to be a theatre major or a gymnast, I'm not trading those hugs and kisses for a homerun any time soon.
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