Tag Archives: hugs and kisses

How to Blow A Kiss

He blows air out in a slow, steady stream.

“What are you doing,” Mark asks him, laughter in his voice. We are all three snuggled up in the bed. It’s Wednesday, and we’re not going anywhere. Snow, sleet, freezing rain. It’s warm under the comforter. He’s perched in the valley between our hibernating forms, watching us like an expectant little bird.

“Blowing kisses,” he says. The duh is implied.

Because we know his rules for this part of the game, we “catch” our kisses, “unwrap” them, and om-nom-nom them.

My son? Blows Hershey’s Kisses.

“Now you,” he orders. Ah, the benevolent dictator in fleecy monster-truck pajamas.

Mwah! I kiss my hand, blow the kiss towards him.

“No, mama! Not like that!”

He very slowly and deliberately blows a stream of air.

“You don’t kiss your hand first,” he explains to me, with infinite patience, as if I am the three-year old. I hear myself in his tone.

I imitate him, as does his dad.

Delighted, he “catches” both kisses, “unwraps” them gleefully, and throws his head back in joy, nomming them up.


Mama's Losin' ItPrompt #3: Describe the last thing that made you laugh really hard.

Not exactly guffaws, but it made us all giggle on a cold, snowy morning!

Boys Show Their Love In Odd Ways

I heard Felix through the monitor yesterday, yawning and stretching after his nap, so I walked upstairs and went into his room to find him peeping out from under his covers, grinning sleepily.

I sat down next to him, slid my hands under the blankets to hug him.

“Your bed is so warm. Can I come in?” I asked him.

“Yup,” he replied, still smiling.

I laid my head on his chest. He adjusted its placement.

“You’re too big to fit in here,” he commented, but he wrapped his arms around my head and squeezed.

He let go, and asked, “Can we do nose kisses?”

I touched our noses together, he turned his head, rubbed the tips of our noses just so. He laughed.

“You do it!”

I touched our noses together again, then rubbed the tip of my nose over his.

He touched the underside of his nose with his finger.

“I have crusties on there.”

“You do,” I said. “Yuck.”

“I’m going to pick them.”

“Please don’t!” I begged, laughing. He did it anyway.

“I just picked one, and I’m going to put it on your face!”

And he did it anyway.

Kiss Me Fast!

A preschooler’s affections are capricious.

A few months ago, Felix wasn’t into kissing me goodnight for a few weeks, and so I would steal kisses when he wasn’t looking. As these things do, it became a game, occasionally brought into our bedtime ritual. He would play coy, giggle and say, “Kiss me!” and then try to dodge the smooch.

I’m quick and crafty, though. And I often captured my quarry with a big, wet kiss.

The squeals of delight and resulting sneaky kisses from him are a terrific return on investment.

Now, he plays the game with me spontaneously, any and every where. Sometimes while we’re out. Sometimes at work. Sometimes first thing in the morning, when I’m still all snuggled in my bed. Out of the blue, he’ll shout, “Kiss me fast!”

And I do.

Fast. Before he’s too grown up to want to kiss his Mama anymore.

Bonking Kiss!

Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty. Mama, I’m thirsty.

STOP! I heard you the first time. Repeating yourself is not going to get you what you want. You say, “Mama, may I have a drink?”

Mama? May. I. Have. A. Drink?

You may. What would you like?

Apple juice.

Just a small glass.


And he’s grinning up at me, a little elf in a Pull-Up and a tee shirt with a stenciled cement mixer on it. As I lean down to kiss his sticky face, he looks up, and my lips collide with his head.

Mama! That was a bonking kiss! A BONKING KISS!

Temporarily distracted from his quest for juice, he tramps off, cackling, “Bonking kiss, bonking kiss!”

My lips are a little sore. My heart, bruised for the baby he’ll never be again.

What Rough Day? My First Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop

´╗┐Rough days this week. Rough days. Felix has had a hard time coping with sharing me, sharing toys, spending our days in someone else’s house. He’ll adjust. And in the end, it will be good for him. Right now, though? Rough days.

Then voila! My first Mama Kat’s prompt email comes, and #3 asks me what puts a smile on my face when I’m not happy.

  1. Spontaneous hugs and/or kisses from my son. There’s something bone-deep magical about his little hands patting my shoulders when he hugs me.
  2. A sunny, breezy 70 degree day. Self-explanatory, this.
  3. A letter–a real letter–in the mail. I get a little thrill when there’s a rare piece of proper mail. Cards, thank you notes, or oh heaven! a letter.
  4. Fresh cherries for under $5/lb. All for me!
  5. The pond scene from the BBC’s Pride & Prejudice. Swim to me Colin Firth Fitzwilliam Darcy!
  6. The volleyball scene from Top Gun. Even hearing Kenny Loggins rock out Playin’ With the Boys does it for me… My suitemates during senior year of college and I would queue up that scene when we felt crappy. My response to it is almost Pavlovian.
  7. Watching TV with Mark at the end of the day. Even if we’re not snuggling or even on the same sofa. It’s shared unwinding time, and we love most of the same television shows. Also, I get really into plots and characters, and Mark’s teasing is part of the secret language of our marriage.
  8. Puppies.
  9. Baby belly laughs. They are perfect.
  10. Our pug’s ears. They are the softest; petting them is very soothing.

Rough day? What rough day?
Mama's Losin' It