I Forgot

I forgot what it's like to have a two-year old.

I forgot that when he says he doesn't like Ravioli and I give him Ravioli anyway because his mom said sometimes he says no but he really means yes and he won't eat the Ravioli because, yes, he did indeed mean no, and I tell him OK, you eat your carrots and I'll make you some macaroni and cheese and then, because he's two and has no conception of time as we know it in this universe, he thinks that means macaroni and cheese RIGHT NOW and so, hey! he better clear off his high chair so he strong-arms that dinner right off the tray and onto the floor so Ravioli and peas and carrots shoot into the air in quite the display.

I forgot that macaroni and cheese means MACARONI not bow-tie pasta because they are NOT THE SAME THINGS AT ALL and he absolutely is astonished that I would think he is going to eat those ridiculous shaped things which are OBVIOUSLY not macaroni, what's wrong with you?

I forgot that you can't say now as soon as you finish those scrambled eggs Mimi made for you because the Ravioli and Macaroni and Cheese simply didn't cut it, we are going to take a bath and then we'll put on our pajamas and watch Blue's Clues and won't that be fun and that means BOOS COOS RIGHT NOW and then it's a little difficult to explain that no, scrambled eggs NOW, BOOS COOS LATER.

But I didn't forget that when I blow the pinwheel for him after dinner he will laugh out loud every time. Every single time. And that chuckle is bright and silvery and cascades into my heart and lodges there.

And I will make him Macaroni and cheese with macaroni and scrambled eggs or whatever he wants to eat forever and forever and forever.