This morning, as every morning, Grant came running out to find me. I love hearing the pad, pad, pad of his feet coming down the hallway. I love how he says, "Mom!" as if I'm some delightful surprise he wasn't expecting. I love how he wants to climb in my lap and snuggle up and give me big hugs.
What I don't love?
The way he is constantly elbowing me in the boobs. When he's not hurting them, he's poking them, pushing on them or trying to use them as pillows.
This morning I was exasperated: "Grant, leave my boobs alone!"
"Gosh mom, I just like looking at them."
(Before anyone calls the Oedipal Hotline, it should be noted that this comment was said in the same tone used to complain when it's time to wash for dinner, clean rooms, turn off the TV, etc.)