Wednesday, February 4, 2015

::max - age 7::

Max owns me.  
Max melts my heart.
Max makes me happy when skies are grey.
Max can break through my angry shell.

Seriously - I can't explain this kid to you.  He makes no sense.  He tell jokes that are so bizarre that we all stare at each other while he rolls around laughing.  He might be the weirdest kid I have ever met, but his weird is just so damn appealing that every one adores him.  

He gets love notes in his backpack from girls at school.  I don't blame them, he is irresistible.  

He takes 45 minutes to get ready in the morning.  It's the slowest process ever and he had to take breaks to warm up in front of the heater.  He eats four pieces of toast every morning with THICK butter.  It may be the majority of his calories for the whole day, because otherwise he hardly eats.  

He gets notes home often from his teacher, that are NOT love notes.  He is brilliant at school.  Straight A's and takes to learning like a natural.  Yet - he doesn't listen and struggles to stay on task.  Basically, that means he isn't even trying and he still gets straight A's.  What's going to happen when we can harness that genius into an outlet?  The sky is the limit.  

He is left handed, just like his Emma.  

He is actually fairly athletic, but lacks the focus to be able to do sports.  If the action lags for one minute he is picky flowers in the outfield.  

He loves drama class and has a chorus roll in Legally Blonde the Musical.  

Of course - his hair is his signature look.    

He gets into the least amount of trouble of all the kids.  When he does get in trouble he is the only one that I feel bad about punishing.  He just looks at you like he is so sorry.  Again - he melts my heart.  

All four of my kids have different reasons why they own me.  Why my soul is locked to them.  Mr Max is always going to have my gratitude.  He was the right age at the right time and when we lost our baby a few years ago he was the only one that didn't give a shit if I just wanted to fall apart.  He wanted his cereal and he wanted me to take care of him.  He didn't humor me, because he was too little to humor me.  He didn't look at me with pity or concern like any normal adult (or even Lily) that cared about me would.  He was in the oblivious older toddler phase where they really don't care about anything but themselves - and he was the perfect medicine to my soul.  He was going to act normal even if my heart was broken.     

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