Last night I was stroking little e's pudgy leg while reading him a story before bed. He's not one for the cuddles, or the touching for that matter. So he picked up my hand and sort of pushed it away with a "eughghghhh..." I know how to take a hint. so I said, "Okay, mama won't touch you" and I pulled my hand away. Then, you know what he did? He took my hand in his, put it on his pudgy little leg and said, "Mama, touch." I could've just died right there.
Then, this morning, Ed had this to report. He had taken Norman and little e to the park. While throwing the ball for Norman, he kept an eye on little e as he did his usual sprint down the soccer field toward the goal. After fetching the ball, Norman stopped midway, dropped the ball, and went in to full on sniffing/searching panic mode in search of little e who was no longer where he had last seen him. Perhaps you can't appreciate the significance of this. Norman DROPPED the ball in search of the boy who is forever tormenting him. I know! I think I need a tissue now.
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