Alex sometimes sleeps in our bed. Ninja, the Siamese cat, spoons Alex. I have a sliver of bed. I would have it no other way. Christopher is at his Dads this weekend and NEVER wants to sleep with his momma. And that’s okay. Having personal space is glorious.

“Can we get up? Can I watch a show? Can you make me “breakfrast”? I want toast and chocolate milk. Do I have Miss Kim’s today and school? Do you have to go to work?”

Morning snuggle time is a truly wonderful treat. Calm down. Don’t stress out. Sit and snuggle with your 4 year old son and soak in the magic before the chaos of the day begins. I love hearing the soft sighs of delight coming out of Alex. His joyful sounds remind me of what it’s like to feel chilled after being outside all day and slipping into a warm hot tub, “aahhh”. The comforts of momma and the comforts of warm water. They are both an enveloping, comforting, and a magical place.

“What are we going to do today? Let’s play basketball,” Alex says at 6:30am before eating “breakfrast” and deciding to forego watching a show. He wants to be pummeled to the ground like the players on a football field. And being chased through the house makes him giggle and giggle as he “carries” the ball round and round before making his slam dunk inside the rim of his Little Tikes basketball hoop.

The basketball pummel chase game turns into imagination karate kicks which remind me of the scene in the movie Fight Club when everyone learns no one is actually beating up Tyler Durden but rather it’s Tyler Durden’s imagination. Wild. I’m in this Fight Club scene this morning. Alex shows me how the filmmakers create the illusion of someone being beaten by another person; body parts flying, limbs whirling, throwing himself on the floor repeatedly and with great enthusiasm. Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, I have your guy. He’s 4 and he lives at my house. This all happens before “breakfrast.”

Can I watch a show now and eat “breakfrast.” Sure thing because now Momma can read her book AND drink her coffee. I typically pregame with the book and coffee but today Alex needs me on the court. Can’t say NO to that. 7:00 am I brew my coffee and put away the dishes. Done. I pour my cooling coffee and wash the bathroom. Perfect. I read my book and give Alex a timeframe for his last show. He agrees. Win.

What are we going to do now? I’m going to the store to buy an onion for Dad.  “Can I come?” Alex asks.

“Of course,” I reply. Off we go. We arrive to the onion bin. Alex laughs out loud when he sees a face imprinted in the side of one of the onions.  Two eyes and a frowny face. Aww poor onion. Whats wrong? Hahaha, we laugh. We bought one of each variety. As we go down the grocery aisles Alex says, “what toy am I going to get?”

“Ummmm? Huh?”, Oh I see. Store equals toys. Got it. Bingo. Toy rack dead ahead. It’s as though he’s on a beach with a metal detector. Beep beep beep. Found the gold. Whoopee cushions. Perfect. We farted our way through the rest of the store with Alex in complete hysterics. Ode to the 4 year old.

“What are we going to do next?” asks Alex the relentless. I’m getting warmed up.

“We are going into town to run a few errands”, I reply.

“Are we going to the “can store”?”, he asks.

“Yes as a matter of fact we are”, I reply. When we arrive at the “can store” we are behind a woman in line with one bag of returnables. The employees at the redemption center precede with counting. The one bag woman takes a seat on one of the inside benches. Alex sits with her. I mean why wouldn’t he sit with a stranger instead of his parents. Makes sense.

My husband, Erik,  and I make small talk occasionally glancing admiringly at Alex speaking about what he thinks is in the big room next to where they are sitting. “A tractor. I think that’s what’s in the room.”

The smiling, humored, compliant stranger nods her head in understanding, “that’s what’s in the room? A tractor?”

“Yes, I think so”, Alex says. He gets up to investigate, “its a table. That’s what’s in the room.” Accepting reality he sits back down and sucks his cherry flavored lollipop contentedly. He’s close, tractor versus table. Unfortunate but close.

Erik and I chuckle over his sweet imagination. As we both look back to admire Alex once more we notice the stranger is now holding his lollipop. Why not, right?  He needs two hands to adhere his sticker to his jacket at the “can store”. That’s why we go there. For the stickers and the strangers who hold our lollipops.

Before leaving the “can store” Alex’s friend Emily and her brother Nathan are there. Alex’s yells with awkward enthusiasm, “I’m going home to dye my hair red with kool-aid!” The kids smile back in their awkward childhood ways. Alex proceeds to run in and out of the “can store,” closing himself out of the sliding doors in preparation of the separation he will one day experience when he leaves home.

Not really. That separation anxiety is only mine. He is just activating the cool doors laughing at his effect upon them. But for me I see this as an ingenious way to prepare for the inevitable. I’m calling contractors right now to install these very doors at my house. I believe in small steps towards my acceptance of Alex’s independence like the doors at the “can store”. I’m also installing a hot tub for when I will no longer get my morning snuggles and need to be enveloped, comforted, and brought back to a magical place.