I have a Levi.
He is helpful.
Says ‘I love you, Mommy!’
Thrives on routine.
Is rather intense.
He has these giant dark chocolate-brown eyes.
When he was younger, he would sleep with his eyes wide open, which creeped the sox right off my feet.
He also did this un-nerving staring thing with his eyes so wide open for so long that your own would begin to feel dry if you looked at him for any length of time. He managed to look quite frightened.
He is stingy with his love. Not that he loves little, but he loves much in small, carefully pondered and controlled quantities at his own highly regulated discretion.
He loves preschool.
Adores his teachers. I was putting a puzzle together with him last week. Colored shapes had to be placed in their respective cutouts. “What’s this, Mommy?”
“A pentagon, Levi. A purple pentagon.”
“Ah! Miss Donna makes these, Mommy! Miss Donna makes these!”
The Christmas break nearly did him in. I have never seen him snap into a normal routine again as quickly as he jumped back into preschool this week.
Making him happy makes me happier than almost anything else in the world. What is it about little boys? And the wreckage they make of their mommy’s heart?
At the end of this month is Wild West Week at preschool. Parents are encouraged to send in a stick pony for the duration.
Levi does not have a stick pony.
Levi is a boy.
Ergo, Levi needs a stick pony whether he needs one or not.
Mommy is broke.
Amazon is not.
Curse you, Amazon.
Mommy has a sewing machine.
Mommy has scraps of material.
Mommy can send Daddy to Lowes.
Horsey used to be a pillow.
He sat next to Levi on the sofa and watched Dora the Explorer until dinner time.
He’s a good pet. I think we’ll keep him.