In honor of Mother’s Day, I do plan to get pampered with a hair cut, eating my favorite foods, and delegating chores to others.  But I truly celebrate by honoring why I enjoy Mother’s Day:  My only child. 
Here is a reposting of a poem I wrote months ago, and have tweeked a bit. 

What Boys Are Made Of….

I’ve heard it said that
Boys are made of things like
Snails and puppy-dog tails,
But you, my boy, are made of
The twinkle of little stars,
Fluffy, powdery snowflakes,
Rays of sunshine and rumbles of thunder,
Tickles, giggles, and grouches,
A favored baby blanket cuddled to shreds,
Clues from a blue dog,
And a pair of square pants.
You , my son, are full of ABC’s and 1,2,3’s
Masterpieces of watercolors and crayons,
Construction paper and dull scissors,
Threads from a friendly barn spider’s web,
Wood from a magic tree house,
Stones from the sidewalk’s end,
And pages from a wimpy kid’s diary,
Tales of talking, singing vegetables,
Glowing swords and mysterious mind tricks,
The one ring that ruled them all,
A sail from a coveted black pearl,
And a useful sonic screwdriver.

My son is made of cracked and dented drumsticks,
Punk rock, alternative and hip hop lyrics,
Tiny scattered blocks of many colors,
Action figures on display, tucked away with care
Or waiting patiently under your bed to be found,
Digital adventures withPersia’s prince,
A ratchet, a clank, a halo and a covenant,
And hearts born in many magical kingdoms.
You, my boy, are made from a scraped up skateboard,
Worn out sneakers and rugged jeans,
Smelly or mismatched gym socks,
Silly booger and flatulence jokes,
Musical armpit farts and untimely loud belches,
Yet perfectly executed hugs and kisses.

All these things mixed with tender care
And seasoned by lessons of your short life experience,
Influences of longer life experiences,
And all of God’s mercy, grace and love.

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