Saturday Mornings

A sweet, almost whispery voice says, "I wanna box you down, Daddy."

Rocco is standing in the middle of the living room in his Lightning McQueen pajamas with my pink Everlast boxing gloves on. His hair is spiked on one side and there are graham cracker crumbs adorning his mouth, chin, and cheeks.

Todd happily obliges. (Who could resist?)

As Rocco "boxes Daddy down" he giggles and squeals with delight. He is truly happy. I love that such a simple thing in life can elicit such joy.

But what brings me more joy than the giggles and squeals is that every once in while, Rocco will stop (when he thinks Todd has seriously gotten injured by his mighty blows) and says, "I sorry, Daddy. It's okay. Nothing happened." He then either gives him a hug or pats his head.

In a split second, Rocco is now a barber giving his daddy a facial scrub. "Wash you face, Daddy," he says as he scrubs Todd's face with a dish towel. He then applies "soap" with the nearby throw pillows.

As I type, he is sitting at his Lincoln Log set carefully constructing a wooden home. He is quiet and methodical until he booms, "Mommy, look what I made!" Then he grins wildly when I say, "Wow! Look at the house you made. That's awesome!"

I wouldn't trade my Saturday mornings for anything.

What are your Saturday mornings like?