Talking "Boy" on Mother's Day

It is coming up on one of my favorite days of the year. You know why? I don't do any of the cooking or cleaning up, and I don't even feel guilty about it. One totally guilt-free day? Heaven. I can see why a couple of years ago Logan, in exasperation, asked, "When is it going to be sister day?" What I thought, but didn't say out loud is, "Are you kidding me? It's sister day every day of the year! Give me your life, I beg you!" Like I said I just thought it because I am supposed to be the adult around here, but I would love for someone to tell me to go take a nap. You know? It's true: Youth is wasted on the young.

But I digress. This is supposed to be about why I love Mother's day. In addition to being relatively self-indulgent and guilt free, I also get terrific cards, gifts, and pictures from my kiddos. Like the one I got today:



I'll admit, at first glance it's a little tough to take. "90 years old?! I guess that eye cream isn't working," I can't help but think. "And c'mon! I don't go to Taco Bell all that often, do I? Do I?" Hmm...so much for guilt free.

Then, when I ask Griffin to tell me about the picture he says, "It me and you. Boxing. And you're winning."

"Oh, wow...We're...boxing? And I'm winning?" Seems a bit violent. Would Freud say there is some underlying aggression in our relationship, I wonder? Maybe this whole card thing isn't so great after all.

Then he interrupts my indulgent self-analysis with, "Yeah, I'm letting you win 'cause I love you."

Oh. That's right. I have to remember to speak boy. It's a totally different language. Like when I wonder how I can possibly thank him, all I have to do is look at the last line. In boy-speak it's all about the belly. Food equals love. Definitely a boy thing.

With that in mind, I just have to read between the lines. Ah, there it is: He's nuts about me. Man, I love this holiday!