December 9, 2015


December 9, 2015
soft, not firm

flabby, mushy, pulpy, spongy, squashy, soft, squooshy

I had been away from my children for 24 glorious hours.  I came home and was rejuvenated. Distance made my heart grow ever fonder.  My seven year old grabbed my hand as soon as I had stepped through the front door and declared snuggle time.  Perfect!  I love snuggle time.  It involves my bed (one of my top three favorite things) and quiet moments with my children.  Snuggle time?  Game on!

Henry hardly gave me a chance to put my bags down.  Before I knew it, I was nestled in my bed with my youngest.  Snuggle, snuggle.  We talked about real Christmas trees vs. fake Christmas trees.  We were solving the problems of the world.  Here were were, sinking in real quality time sprinkled with sweet intellectual conversation.  And then he said it.  He said, "Squishy."  

Squishy.  The word squishy makes me cringe a little.  A friend of mine can't stand the word "moist".  Well I can't stand the word "squishy".  Ew.  

"Mom, I just love you!  You are just so SQUISHY!  I wish I could have a stuffed animal like you.  I'd name it 'Squishy' and snuggle it all the time".  Um...a stuffed animal of me?  Now, there's a vision.

Clearly I haven't taught my boy that the word "squishy" is not a flattering word to describe a female. 

Well, this fond adjective did come minutes after eating what might be considered my last meal at a Mexican restaurant on top of 24 hours spent eating pasta and cheesecake.  Squishy.  How endearing.  

What goes around comes around.  I remember crawling in my mom's lap and telling her with great affection just how "comfortable" she was.  Squishy stings a bit more.  

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