Posted by: sulya | 28 September 2009

I Like to Kiss Boys Who are Reading

readingboysThe boy and I are on the sofa having a cuddle, watching a terrifically annoying show with some of the worst acting I’ve ever seen about motorcycles and how they work and flipping through a colouring/sticker book all about Thomas the Train.

I give the boy a kiss on the cheek.

He says, “I like baths more than kisses.”

I say, “That means you’d rather have a bath than get a kiss. Is that really true?”  He laughs.  I’m not sure he understands.  I say, “So, should I kiss you again or would you rather go have a tubby?”  He laughs again, says, “No.”

Clearly, there is a barrier of grammar or something at play here.  I decide I don’t really care. I just want to kiss my boy.  So I start to kiss him over and over again on the cheek.  Lots of “mmwa, mmmwa, mmwa” sounds and repetitive action.

He says, “No.  No more kisses.  Not ever.  No kisses while I am reading.”

He has no way of knowing that this statement actually cuts me, that I feel it like an extended and well-braced index finger pressed into a bruise, and he has no reason to ever know that so I say, with a big smile on my face:

“Well, too bad!  I like to kiss boys who are reading!”  And I kiss and kiss him.

And kiss him and kiss him.

And he starts to make a noise like a truck backing up, a warning sound and holds up his hand.

“Ehn Ehn Ehn Ehn Ehn Ehn!!! No kisses ever again!”

So, I kiss his hand over and over.  I stick a sticker from his book on his nose and call him a Thomas-Nose.

I kiss him some more.

He sticks a sticker on my nose that says, “Go” and calls me a Go-Nose.

We are both laughing hysterically at this point.  His laugh is beautiful and comes from a place so deep inside him that it gives him a short bout of hiccups.

I love his laugh.  I love him.  I love giving him kisses.

And, whether I’m doing it more in my imagination as the years pass, sending him kisses with my mind rather than planting them with my lips, so as not to embarrass him I just won’t stop kissing him.  I won’t.

Not ever.

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