Truett, my nephew, spent the day at my place having lots of fun with my mom and I. He’s a wonderful boy who loves helping wherever he can, speaking his mind (this is pure assumption because he can’t communicate with us yet), showing everybody a lot of affection. Well okay not exactly everybody, but the people he loves know it. Like his younger sister, who immediately stops crying when he rushes over kiss her. Or my mom. He adores my mom. She’s the first person he looks at when he falls, when he wants to show her something interesting, and even when he’s engrossed with playing (ie. with keys/remote controls/anything but his own toys), his gaze will flicker in her direction just to make sure she’s nearby. And if she isn’t, he’d find her and grab her legs. It’s not exactly clinginess, but she’s his safety net.
So after the long day with him, my mom and I were sitting on our bed as Christmas music played in the background talking about how adorable Tru is and how it’s so fascinating to see his character slowly form/emerge (after all is it nature or nurture…??).
“Mommy you’re spoiling him, he’s going to grow up bullying you. You indulge him whenever he tairs” I say, mock accusing of spoiling her grandchild.
“He’s just like you, you know. Not just in terms of looks. You were exactly like that with your dad. You loved to run up to him, grab his legs and demand to be carried. You didn’t need to be asked, you’d just go over and crawl onto his lap, even if he was busy. And he always indulged you. He loved you that way,” she replies.
God, I miss him.
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