The Shape of Things

Ok, so I'm going to gloss RIGHT over the inordinate, unbelievable, crazy amount of time it's been since my last post (glossing, too, right over the fact that I had vowed to do this every every every day), and get straight to the point. I've missed this. Had tons (and tons) of thoughts I wanted to share, record, post, send out into the bright universe, but have not risen to the occasion to get off my duff and actually do. There's the rub, I think, of being a writer. Millions upon millions of stories, lines, thoughts, words float around and by me, compel me, interest me, inspire me, but if I don't actually write them down somewhere, they remain just that. Ideas. Forever imprisoned in my head instead of out there for all the world to see.

So here's one that's at least two months old, but cycles to the front of my head nearly every day in one way or another. The boy and my hubby and I were reading a "shapes" book, pointing to a shape, and Grif responding with the (usually) correct name. What follows is a perfectly perfect example of my child's loving heart, open mind and glorious, glorious soul. What follows is a reminder that life is good. What follows is a reminder to be thankful and present in how truly good it is.

Jim: What shape is this? [pointing]
Grif: A yellow star!
Jim: And this?
Grif: A diamond!
Me: Good job, honey!
Jim: What's this?
Grif: That's a heart. For mommy. Mommy is my whole heart.
[Jim and I look at each other over his head, stunned, immediately tear-filled, happy.]
Grif: And Daddy, you're my sun. My sun in the sky.

The shape of things indeed, no?