He is full of raucous joy.
He treats his brother like a little prince.
(His brother thinks he's the best thing since pureed pears.)
"Mama. Close garage door,"
he reminds me as we pull out of the driveway.
"My name is...DADA!" he crows,
collapsing into a giggle fit.
(Sometimes his name is Mama, or Finn-Finn,
or Goo-Gah, or even "Dave.")
He loves a good adventure.
He likes to dress up and make me laugh.
"Who's my love-love?" I ask him,
and when he's done being playful,
he answers me straight:
Yes you are, baby boy.