He's Just my Kind of Nutty

Everyone tells me what a sweetie he is.

And this is true.

Sweet enough to thaw right through the grump that crusts over my heart after a particularly long day and stressful commute home.

But he's also ornery.  Workin' a contrary streak that causes me to say, "oh sweet-Jesus-please-give-me-patience-with-this-child," in one long exhale of helpless resignation.

He hears things his own way.  He sees it all through his own filter.  Sometimes I get glimpses through his lens, too, and am entirely charmed by life from the perspective of a two-year-old.  

Tonight, when he comes to lie down in front of me upside down, I say (repeat for the 88th time, more like it) that I can't put a diaper on your head.  The diaper goes on your bottom.  Please turn around, Landon.

"Just put my diaper on my head, mom."

"If you insist"

And then we're both cracking up, and he's off and running to show daddy this hilarious new look that I don't think he ever dreamed I'd actually do.  

When I watch his glee, and what untarnished happiness he gets from this silly moment, and how easily pleased he is, and how he wants to take his pleasure and share it immediately with the one who isn't in the room, I can't help but love him.

He's the best kind of nutty.