boy love

"Here, this is for you," he mumbles as he hurries out of the bathroom and up the stairs to join in what is promising to be a Nerf battle royale between father and sons. I continue, dirty cups and stray papers in my other hand, to the kitchen to clean up a little before bedtime. Cups go in the sink, papers to the recycle box, and what is that thing he gave me?

just a pipe cleaner heart.
that he made for me. 
His heart.

I smile faintly and set it on a bookshelf to be admired later and continue with the dishes. Within minutes I am done, and so is the battle. Miraculously there are no tears from the weary soldiers this time. Two boys head for the bathroom, and the third picks a book and notices the pink heart. Lest he think I have just tossed it aside, I call him over.

"That might be the sweetest thing you've ever given me, you know." I whisper.
He snuggles immediately into my arms. This gangly 8 year old wears shoes I could fit into in a pinch. He swears that his life is over if he cannot have his way on a weekly basis. He is loud is his pursuit of justice.There are times I contemplate strangulation.

"Why?" he asks, with a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Because you gave me your heart! I respond. "Maybe some day I will let your wife have it, but for now, it's mine. I'm going to keep this, you know."

"Oh. OK."

This son of mine has a heart the size of Sicily. He notices the smallest of details. He often provides for his brothers before himself. He finds the one right way to do something and strives always for perfection in himself and those around him. There are times I would not change a thing.