Twice in the last week Will has found a dandeline ripe to be blown. He will trample through yards that aren't are own to reach one. And every time he find one he runs back to stand next to me and makes his wish.
Last year I tried to explain the process of making a wish before attempting to blow off all the petals with one breath. He didn't grasp it real well. He always makes the same wish and he will huff and puff (sometimes even slap it around on a tree or the road) until all the petals are free. His wish?
"I wish I loved Momma lots."
Fortunately, I know what he means. But it strikes me not only as cute but quite hilarous.
You see, about two years ago Steve convinced Will that he (his Papa) was number one and that Will could only love one person enough to be number one.
Each day as Will winds down, he climbs on my lap for loves. He cuddles up against me and I'll pet him. Give him kisses. At some point I'll whisper, "I love you.
And my only son will whisper back, "I love Papa more."
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