Don’t you just love how you start thinking about one specific thing and it leads to a chain of thoughts and the end result is a great memory? That happened to me today and it was of something I hadn’t thought about it a long time.
So, on Instagram it’s Throwback Thursday (#tbt) (Aslo, I can’t believe I just used a hashtag in my post). Wait, can you do double parenthesis like that? Hmmm. Probably not.
Anyway, here’s today’s photo:
This photo was taken sometime in 2001, shortly after MD and I moved back stateside from Japan. I think he’s probably six months old here. Please ignore the fact that I’m wearing overalls (this was before yoga pants as real pants became a thing). I adore this photo for various reasons, mainly those tiny sweatpants he has on. My GOD they are so cute. That knitted cap. Those tiny chicklet teeth. Also, his expression cracks me up. As I looked at the photo, I got all teary eyed over that little dip of flesh between his hand and arm. There’s nothing more awesomer than babies with fat limbs. Gah.
So I’m looking at his hands, remembering how I’d instinctively reach out to hold his when we were in public. I’m not sure how it started, but while holding hands in a store one day, I wrapped my pinkie around his wrist. He jerked his hand out of mine and said, “NO. Don’t Momma!” I was like, “What the hell? Ooookay.”
But, I couldn’t leave it alone! Anytime after that, when we’d hold hands, I’d sneak and wrap my pinkie around his wrist. He’d do the same thing, telling me to stop. One day I asked him why I had to stop doing that. “Because A) that’s not how you hold hands and 2. It feels WEIRD.” I will never forget his expression when he said it either. Such seriousness. Mr. Bossy Pants.
The older MD became, the less he’d want to hold my hand. As a mother, it’s the small things you learn to let go of, but I do miss that innocence. That I was the protector, simply by holding his hand in mine. It’s been several years since MD and I have held hands, but recently we were walking into a record shop and I reached out and grabbed his left hand. For like three seconds he let me.
Around 1.5 seconds, I wrapped my pinkie half way around his wrist (because apparently, I am raising a giant) and he yelled, “OH MY GOD MOM! NO!” We both erupted in laughter as he shook his hand as if it was covered in a spiders web. I followed him into the shop whining, “C’mon! Let me dooooooo it! C’MON!!” The rest of the time I followed him around waving my pinkie.
Hey, it’s part of my job to annoy the shit out of him.
He deprived me of sleep for like six months of his life so you know: