I read this post over at The Book Of Alice about the sweet way Alice (a.k.a the Kidling) was expressing her love for her Mama. In the comment section, Christine (a.k.a the Mama) stated, “I don’t believe there is an age limit for expressing your love creatively” which struck a chord with me because, as a parent, there is nothing sweeter than when your children shower you with buckets of genuine affection and nothing sadder than when they enter into the nuclear winter of affection known as adolescence.
As an experiment, I called my eight year old, who teeters on the precipice of Tweendom, to me, gave her a big hug and told her “I love you to the dirt and bath again and around the soap and towel again.”
To which she replied, “I love you to China and outer space.”
And then she started pretending to choke from my suffocating hug.
But still, she loves me to outer space, which is pretty infinite, especially since NASA’s budget has been gutted and it’s harder to get up there and see exactly how much square footage we’re talking about. And China is where all of the toys are made so that’s a pretty choice location too, unless you are protesting human rights or something, but I don’t think she’s thinking about the political aspects of any country yet, so it probably wasn’t a statement about the restrictive nature of my parenting. Probably.
In any case, I’m happy to report that my eight year old hasn’t reached an age limit for expressing her love creatively, though she may be approaching an adolescent hiatus. I still have a couple of years of outer space/China love to enjoy. And believe me, I’m squeezing all of the blood I can from that love-turnip.
It looks like Riley is kissing me but actually she’s grunting, “just take the picture,” which is why I’m having a fit of giggles.
Fathead Follies 
Oh Fathead. Now you made my day (which makes me feel badly for calling you “Fathead”) What a sweet girl you have. Thanks for the reassurance that if I don’t screw up, then four years from now she might still love me in her silly kidling way.
Moreover she will love you despite any screw ups. Four years of quality love is pretty good. She will also love you eight years from now, but might not tell you about it;-)
I can be okay with that. I’m not going to pretend to like it, but at least it won’t kill me…
Dear Fathead,
1) Awwwwwwwwwww! Sniff. Sniff. Lovely post.
2) Isn’t “the book of alice” an amazeballs blog?
3) I love your blog all the way to a parallel universe where Justin Bieber is just a dork in the glee club at school and bloggers are the richest, most beloved people in the universe.
xo
CCL
http://www.paltrymeanderings.com
That is a powerful love indeed. I don’t think my own children love me with as much panache. I was filled with joy just imagining such a universe.
Yes, I do love The Book of Alice. There’s another great blog you should check out: Paltry Meanderings…about a tall, literate woman who farts in yoga. I LOVE it!
I’ve heard about her. But I’ve also heard she’s stupid…and you know you can’t fix stupid.
If she’s stupid then I’m in trouble. Damn it! Will someone please get me a plastic cactus to chew?
Have you tried licking a bag of kitty litter? I hear it has the same effect.
Shucks, CCL. I think you are amazeballs, too. Dummy (not you, Fathead. Her).
You are both the fabulous. Thanks for being such fun/great/hilarious/thoughtful writers.
“I’m squeezing all of the blood I can from that love-turnip.” This is my favorite sentence of the day.
On the day of his high school graduation, I’m planning on smooching Sausage all over his belly until he squeals in glee. I refuse to allow that whole “teenage” thing to prevent this.
Me too! Though I might not tell my kids ahead of time, lest they decide to drop out and get their GEDs to avoid it.