I look at Bodhi in his slightly too long for him top, and his baggy jeans, and his runners with the flashing red lights. His hair falls perfectly along his jaw, shiny and light brown and almost red tinted. And his little rounded face and pointed chin and giant blue almond shaped eyes are just ... perfect. He is the cutest, coolest little two year old rock star you could imagine. When he plays he runs everywhere, elbows pumping high, when he climbs up things he does it earnestly, saying 'urf, urf, urf' in a little growly panty voice like Pooh Bear. Everywhere we go people smile at him in delight.
I pick up the tiny mini tangerine, and peel a flap, make it talk in a squeaky voice, 'Oh please don't eat me!' Enchanted, he grins wide, and replies, in an equally tiny, squeaky and amused voice, 'I'm gonna eat you!'
Going to bed, after using the bathroom, he lies on his back and and grins. 'Pee always comes out of my willie', he says.
'Well,' I say, 'it's meant to. It would be weird if it came out of anywhere else. Like out of your nose.'
His eyes go wide and distant as the image sinks in, and his mouth pops open in wonder for a long few beats, then stretches into a delighted and amused grin. 'Or out of your bellybutton,' I say, and he starts to laugh.
Today in his granny's, he's wearing a long sleeved
tshirt his dad bought him, it's coral, and the first thing granny says when she sees it, is, oh, it's lovely, is that Olivia's? And I say, no, Axel bought it, because Bodhi's a Daddy Tiger. And a little later, she looks at it, doing the nervous laugh that always precedes an insult and that I have to admit, I've kinda grown to hate, 'it's a funny colour for a boy, it's a girl's shirt, is it? For a girl?'
'Oh, Betty', I say, 'it's from Next, from the boys' section. Always such a traditionalist'. And she laughs, to her credit, but is still mightily alarmed at her long haired grandson wearing a ... pink shirt....
