Lin Hawthorne

As I watch my toddler break down and throw a tantrum for no apparent reason, I cross my arms and I have one thought running through my head, “I will not negotiate with terrorists.”

My independent little boy let me rub his back for a few minutes before naptime. Either he’s getting sick again or he *may* need me for a hot second. Shhh…. let’s not tell him we’re in on the secret.

This morning, I got J up and in a rare show of affection he snuggled in to me and put his forehead on mine. And then he stuck his tongue out and licked my nose. We both laughed until we cried. I <3 this boy.

So for a year and a half (even longer if you count in utero), I’ve been talking to J where it’s more me just babbling and asking him questions not expecting a response. Well, blow me down, he’s started responding. What the heck do I do now.

Last night we were at our favorite sushi spot with J. So many memories. We’d go there and sit at the bar and talk to the sushi chefs and anyone else who happened to sit nearby. We’d unwind and talk about our day and hold hands and plan for the future. Well, BAM! The future is now. Last night my hands were covered in sushi as I picked apart pieces for J to eat. Dave deftly ate with one hand while holding a glass of water so J wouldn’t knock it off as he played with the ice. We each had our assumed tasks and still managed to joke around and do damage control for a squirrel-y toddler together. A successful evening out clearly has a new definition these days.