tender

my dearest son,
we have recently nick named you hurricane because you are always on the go.
you love to open up drawers, and dump everything out.
toilet paper rolls get emptied on the floor,
and your tiny hand prints are everywhere.
you love to wrestle, peek-a-boo, and chase.
you know how to turn on the radio, increase the volume,
and bob up and down to the beat.
but, sometimes, at the end of the day - close to bedtime,
all you want to do is cuddle.
you crawl up on me and nuzzle your head into my chest.
your body is still, with the exception of your rolling fingers.
you truly are your father's son - 100% boy on the outside,
but so gentle and tender on the inside.
you bring me so much joy, little man.
thanks for being you.
forever and always,
momma