Last night, as Oldest was fixing a huge bowl of ice cream with sprinkles, I walked in and he grabbed me for a hug. While he was giving me a hug, he hugged me a little tighter and longer. I just thought he was being serious for a moment... He had done a fantastic job cleaning up the kitchen from a huge lunch and I had told him how much I appreciate it. Maybe it was his Daddy chewing on him a bit to talk a little kinder and he was feeling bad... Whatever the case, I don't get them often.
I should have known because I heard him take a breath... Now I knew I'd had a shower that morning, and I had been cooking and baking most of the late morning. It was one of those higher energy days since my surgery. As I pulled away, he held tighter, so I finally poked him in the side - a sure way to loosen the "death grip" he had... It reminded me of Shel Silversteen's "Hug O'War" poem from Where the Sidewalk Ends.
"What?" I questioned.
"I don't know... You smell... You smell... Familiar! That's it! Something about you smells familiar."
Thanks Son! I have to add that this morning, as he was walking out the door on his way to school, he hugged me again and took a deep whiff and left grinning...
I will not play at tug o' war I'd rather play at hug o' war, Where everyone hugs Instead of tugs Where everyone giggles And rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses And everyone grins And everyone cuddles And everyone wins.
"Hug O' War" is borrowed from Where the Sidewalk Ends: the poems & drawings of Shel Silverstein, published by Harper & Row Junior Books