8 years ago, I became a mama.

I love each and every one of his freckles.
I love the windows in his smile.
I love his beautiful almond-shaped eyes and how bright and engaging they are when he talks to me.
I love how he looks, how he smells, how he feels and how he, um, tastes.  (and if you don't believe me, see here)
I love the sound of his giggle and his hearty laugh.
And OMG I love the way he dances.
I love how he fondles my hair or my necklace or my shirt when he tells me something important.
I love to hear, "Mama, can I tell you something...?" before he, you know, tells me something.
I love how important it is to him to tell his Papa about his Legos.  ("Mama, will you text Papa and tell him that I just built a ________?")
I love how he is patient and eager to play with his little sisters.
I love to clip his toenails because when I get to that baby toe it reminds me that he still has a baby something that I get to take care of.
I secretly love it when he tries to tickle my armpit or tickle my feet or slap my butt (even though I tell him not to do that) because at least he still wants to touch me.  I mean, one day he might not want to touch me at all or, worse, he might not want me to touch him.
I love the way he draws.
I love his handwriting.
I love the way he still says "babing suit" when we get ready for swimming.
I love what an avid reader he is.  And I love that he recommends books I might like such as The Magic Treehouse "Dinosaurs Before Dawn." Riveting.
I love it that he loves art.
I love it that he finds the right occasion to say thank you and I don't have to prompt him.
I love how when I spend an afternoon in his classroom as a parent helper which really means I sit at the back of the room and do some clerical chores to help out the teacher (which I really, truly am happy to do), he turns and waves at me at least 87 times.
I love his posture and body language when he is explaining something.
I love that he wants to share his day with me.
I love that he appreciates a routine.
I love that he is willing to try new things.
And I love how he enjoys the simple things.
I love his imagination.
I love that he invented Ultrabot in kindergarten and that he has become part of our life.
I don't love that he is 8 because that is too big too fast but I do love that he is 8.
And I love how every single night he tells me, "Mama, don't forget to come up to my bed to give me a smooch."
And I love that I get to do that because he is what made me a mama.