"What's that, mommy?" and he points to a (mole) on my face. A so-called beauty mark I've never been that crazy about.
"It's a freckle," I tell him. (Freckle sounds so much less severe, so I go easy on myself) Soon after, I discover the first little freckle on top of his ear. A pinprick of brown I thought was a speck of dirt at first. Not long after, another little one shows up on his left knee. And now I've discovered a matching one on his other knee.
All so adorable. So tiny. Itty bitty reminders that even this little baby is aging into a full-fledged boy: "I not baby! I big boy!" His indignation rings out every time he declares this.
I've shown Landon all of his freckles. Well, the two on his knees. And I told him about the one on top of the ear.
Tonight, as I was beside him for bedtime stories he pointed to something speckled on my face and said, "Is this mommy's meckle?"
He sits up with such a grin. "Like Landon's meckles?"
"Yep, like Landon's freckles."
"On my ear?"
Oh sweetness, how did you remember that??
I may not be crazy about the random spots I have, but I'm crazy about the little boy who just noticed them, noticed his own, and charms me with words like "meckles."