I'm Just Sayin': "If I was a flower growing angry and discharge all I'd .

"If I was a flower growing angry and liberate all I`d want is you to be my sweet honeybee." "Mommy it`s our song!" Kostyn screamed, dropping his bone and drumstick and flying toward me with abandon. I turned to look him only in sentence to see him get up his knees and rise in my direction, his arms outstretched. It was a fumbling catch but a catch nonetheless. "Aaaaaghh!" I said, tripping between vexed and thrilled.

"You get to warn Mommy, honey, you`re getting so big." "It`s our song," he said matter-of-factly, his eyes shining and his head bobbing up and down, willing me to begin dancing. It was, after all, our song. For no special reason than I happened to have gotten my hands on the "Juno" soundtrack when he was a baby, and speedily became addicted to it, playing it nonstop for several weeks. And something around the fragrance of this tune - "All I Wish Is You" by Barry Louis Polisar - always caused me to best him up and twist him around. And I`d whisper, "This is our song." Because back then I was a new mom who thought she needed something tangible, audible, to cement a tie between father and son. I thinking I required to establish a seed that would root and turn to retain us connected always."And if I was a tree growing tall and green all I`d want is you to shade me and be my leaves." I used to dancing with him in my arms until the song was done, and then we`d sidestep over to the stereo and hit "Rewind." And when it finished, "Rewind" again. But this time I felt myself straining under his burden a small bit. He didn`t sit in my arms or curl around my waist so easily, like he exploited to. His eyes were still dancing, humming, happy to be in Mommy`s arms for "our song," but I was imagining how it would feel - how it will feel - to be holding his men instead of his whole body when we dance. I wondered how it will look to check his feet act to the music across from mine. I wondered how it will look when he takes the lead, and I follow. I wondered how it will look to see him dance with someone else. I was reminded of that book "Let Me Take You Longer," about how parents often mention the start but not the last time a baby does something. (Parents: If you`re not associate with this book, get it. Read it. Sob. I knew this wasn`t the final time we`d dance to our song. But still, I scooted us over to my calculator and took this:

And so I twirled away, jumping in circles to follow his eyes dance and his open-mouthed smile, silently vowing to do more upper body weight-training at the gym. Or just hit "Rewind" more often. "All I wish is you, will you stick with me? Make me in your arms and carry me like the sea."