Raising boys is wonderful and gross. There's a lot of yelling and running, there's pee all over the bathroom and yard, you get lots of hugs, snack remnants litter your home, you get told you're pretty a lot.
Last night, Sam solidified his boy-ness.
I got a haircut last night, and the moment I walked in the door, he ran to me, hugged my legs, and immediately told me he liked my haircut. Right before brushing his teeth, he asked to see my hair closer and as he was petting my head, he told me my haircut was very pretty. At bedtime, they were all tucked in, the lights were off, and his sweet little face was looking up at me in the soft glow of lava lamp we use for a nightlight. I bent down to stroke his hair and kiss his forehead. At that exact moment he farted. And before I could pull away, he yelled "FARTED!" right in my face.
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