Hooray for VD!

VD for Valentines Day. At least that's the story I'm sticking to.

I've never been a fan of the holiday, myself -- too commercial, too corporate, too contrived. Yes, I may be a bit jaded, but something about seeing conversation hearts at Wal-Mart on January 2 really turns me off of the whole thing. Especially now that they say things like "Fax Me".
...
Jack woke up this morning with gusto. We met in the hallway at the top of the stairs, as is becoming a morning ritual. He waited patiently while I put on my raggedy flannel robe (over my new pink underpants, in case you were wondering).

"Mommy jammies?" he asked, pointing at the above-mentioned robe.

"Yes. Mommy's jammies."

"Jack have jammies!"

"Yes, you have jammies, too."

"Jack have Me-me," he indicated his faded and increasingly tattered security blanket. He named it before he had really learned to talk. Me-me goes everywhere with us; when we go for walks he wraps it around his head and shoulders like a pashmina. When he goes to bed, Jack settles it next to him and wraps his arms around it. Me-me is the first thing he looks for when he wakes up in the morning.

"Yes, that is Me-me," I agreed.

"Where Mommy Me-me??"

"Mommy doesn't have a Me-me."

He considered this for a moment, while I sat at the top of the stairs so he could climb on for a piggy-back ride down. I watched the gears turning in his head, then saw the lightbulb appear.

Chocolate and Flowers are nice. Diamonds? Sure, I wouldn't turn them down. At the end of the day, though, none of them can begin to compete with my 2 year-old son as he walked over to me and, very gently, wrapped Me-me, his most precious posession, around my shoulders.

"Here, Mommy."

And just like that, I became a convert. Happy Valentines Day.