Yesterday I found William standing next to our mail slot and giggling.
“I don’t know if you should look in there,” he said, dancing a bit, “because there is secret mail inside.”
“Is there mail for me?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, near bursting with glee. “It’s secret, for you!”
I opened the little door, and there in our mail slot was a handful of little notes William had covered with scribbles and random letters.
“Is this for me?” I asked. William just covered his mouth with both hands and dissolved into laughter.
That evening I had a good time reenacting the scene for Brian, complete with hand-smothered giggles, and he sighed.
“You know, there will come a time when William won’t be as cute as he is now, and that will be sad.”
Yes, it’s true. It actually makes me physically hurt to think of William outgrowing the lovely stage he’s in right now. Today his creative dance teacher complimented me on his behavior, saying, “I’ve never known such a pleasant-tempered boy.” I smiled and thanked her, and she emphasized: “No, really. I haven’t.”
Well, I would say she hasn’t seen him in what I call “The Realm of Pout,” but she has (on the legendary Thursday when he fell asleep in the car on the way to dance. He refused to participate at all). So the compliment is wholeheartedly acknowledged. He’s our sunshine boy.