I luh lou.

Burke Thomas, my 20 month old gentle giant, he with the big blue eyes, juicy lips, and double dimples, says “I luh lou” to me at least 30 times a day. Usually with his face very close to mine while offering a wet kiss. Which means at least 30 times a day my heart actually stops momentarily. It melts. My stomach does a little loop-de-loop and it’s all I can do not to squeeze his fat cheeks. I hope he never stops saying “I luh lou” but even if he learns the correct pronunciation, I hope he never ever ever stops telling me. Because it makes every single thing worth it. Every moment of labor pain, every sleepless night, every heart wrenching moment when he cries out for me and I think something is terribly wrong. I store these moments up and save them for the tantrums, which will likely come too soon. When I think I am about to lose my mind with his toddler pickiness, I will remember these words, the kisses. I save them for the inevitable years when he’s too cool for me, and shuts the car door with nary a goodbye and certainly not an “I luh lou”. For the far away day when he’s missed curfew and I hear a siren and my heart wants to break into a million pieces at the mere thought…these “I luh lou” memories will get me through. They are worth more than diamonds, they are how we mommas get paid and I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.



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