Luke turned 3 and a half recently. I've been meaning to do a portrait post for a long time. So long that the many scraps of paper I've saved with his adorable quotes are basically out of date now. I have so many great Luke pics to share. Like this one.
Tonight I'll get into bed without a sleeping Lukie next to me. This is the first time since he was born, except when I was in the hospital or traveling without him.
Tonight I decided to set up the futon in the playroom for me or Chris (probably for Chris) because our family bed is feeling crowded and my back hurts. Chris was out of town the last two nights and I realized I slept better with just three -- instead of four -- people in our extra big bed. But after I set up the futon, Luke decided to sleep in there with Chris. He was totally casual about it. "Night, Mommy." No biggie.
So now I am *not* sleeping next to my sweet, snuggly, warm, practically purring Luke tonight. Or my husband. And it's weird. It's a wee bit sad.
That got me thinking how it's a good night for a Luke tribute. While I'm missing him.
I'll start with one of the sweetest things he's ever said to me (or that anyone has ever said to me, for that matter). I was asleep. It was morning. I felt a little caress on my cheek and then a small person's slow-talking, earnest whisper in my ear. The whisper said: "Mommy. I like you."
He did that about a month ago. And just when I was feeling nostalgic about it, he did it the other day, too.
He likes to pretend to be a kitty. Whenever he wants to be affectionate, his shortcut is to meow.
He also likes to pretend to be a horse and use his fumbling lips to pick up carrot pieces that you offer in a flattened palm. Then he nods his lowered head, horse style, while he eats.
He does so many adorable things of this nature, I can't even remotely begin to describe them all. So I'm offering a random sampling.
He begins sentences with "Well…," even when asking a question, and ends them with upturned palms and an exaggerated shrug, even when he's making a statement. As if adding, What can I say -- it's just the truth.
He likes to kiss and pat and nuzzle my belly. He hums contentedly and takes a deep breath, then goes on with his play after a bit of belly time. ("I'm just loving your belly.") He talks about babies being in bellies in general and him being a baby himself in mine specifically.
"When I grow up, I'm going to be a Daddy like you." Tonight to Chris.
He also wants to be a mommy. And to nurse. I explain some things about that. Then he says that he understands no milk comes from of a daddy's nursings, that they are "just for decoration."
Tonight he said that when you die, you are gone for three weeks. Then you come back. What do you come back as?, I asked. Yourself, he said, with the shrug. How old are you when you come back? Five, he said.
He loves to ride his pedal-free bike. He coasts it down the driveway all the way to front door. He'll do it over and over for hours, if I let him. Each time he calls from the steep driveway, "Is this high enough, Mommy?" As if I want him to go higher instead of not too high.
His kisses are unhurried and contented, followed by a gentle smile.
He holds up fingers to show amounts, even when the amounts aren't measurable by fingers.
He loves to play with Halina. It breaks his heart when she wants to end the game. "Let's still pretend we're kitties."
"No, I'm done with that game."
"Noooooo! Well, how about I'm the kitty and your the kitty's owner and Mommy can be our mommy?"
"Okay."
Halina is often game. They play well together, in partnership, and for long stretches. She can be incredibly patient and give him thoughtful, loving instruction and he can listen with such devoted interest. He adores her.
Luke asks a lot of questions. A drive to school the other week included: What makes wind? Do trees talk? Why do houses have windows? Do robots eat? And others, but I can't find the scrap of paper now.
That reminds me of an old one from the summer:
Luke: Where do people come from?
Me: People come from people.
Luke: No they don't. People come from factories.
Me: People-making factories?
Luke: Yes!
Out of the blue from October:
"You know, ducks don't need goggles." I agreed. "And fish don't need goggles. And alligators don't need goggles."
Luke: "I dreamed that Santa came last night. And he used his mommy's sled."
Me: "Oh, he used his mommy's sled instead of his own sled?"
Luke: "No, he usually uses his mommy's sled."
He'll often preface questions or statements with, "In real life, …." The other day he started off a question about something imaginary by saying "In pretend life, …."
A few more Luke quotes from not long ago:
"After I finish eating this, I'm going to come over to you and snuggle."
"It's time for me to play. No, it's time for me to snuggle."
"Let's pretend I'm a baby and you're my mommy." (often heard)
Mouth open, batting at his ear: "I'm trying to get a yawn out."
"I just love your belly sooooo much. I used to be a baby in your belly and I loved being in there."
He's just had amazing growth in his vocabulary and his pretend play abilities since starting preschool in the fall. One of the most illustrative moments when I knew we were entering a new chapter was a few weeks after preschool started and he wanted to play pirates with me in his big plastic sandbox boat at home. We put on pirate hats and everything. I have some hilarious quotes from that day stashed around here somewhere. He initiated a whole elaborate pretend play where we were both pirate captains, and he was pirate captain Luke James Sir, and we had to deal with storms and alligators and navigate choppy waters. At one point I offered him chocolate milk and he said pirate captains don't drink chocolate milk, they drink things like coffee.
Which reminds me of when I tried to give him a princess napkin once and he said he didn't like princesses and refused to use the napkin.
Me: "You don't like princesses??"
Luke: "I don't like beautiful. I only like ugly."
"Mommy," he'll usually say first thing after he wakes up, "is it morning?"
"Yes," I'll whisper. And he'll get up and pad out of the room. His Daddy and sissa are invariably up already.
When you say, "Goodnight my sweet little Lukie," (or prince, or darlin', or muffin, or sweet potato), he'll say "Goodnight my sweet little Mommy." Or, as was the case tonight, "Goodnight my sweet little Daddy."
Here are some more favorite pictures of Luke from the last four - six months (though I think the first one is older), not in a particular order:
Something else that Luke used to say that I might not have blogged about: "You break my heart." He used to say that whenever he felt unjustly treated by me, often through tears. He hasn't said that in a long time. At some point he got out of the habit. But I always had such respect for that.
Can't wait to see you in the morning and snuggle with you and play with you and share another day with you, sweetest Lukie. So glad I get to be your mommy.
