Many many moons ago in the days of jelly shoes and Hubba Bubba, my family was friends with a family consisting of a father – Steve, mother – Kim, and son – Christopher. My brother, being a well-read tyke, had books such as “Winnie the Pooh” and “Kissyfur” – books about bears. He realized the correlation between “Kissyfur” and “Christopher,” so he started calling Pooh’s friend by his ‘real’ name: Kissyfur Robin. When we’d hang out with our family friends, he continued to say their son’s name ‘correctly’: Kissyfur. And his mom’s name? Not Kim, but Robin. Kissyfur and Robin: wasn’t he adorable?

The obsession with the ‘kissy’ has continued down the generations, settling in our family’s youngest member: JJ. For the longest time we blow kisses at each other as the Hubby takes him up to bed. Well, really it’s me blowing kisses, and him waving . . . or screaming . . . or both.

But all of a sudden, the love switch has turned on, and he can’t get enough of sharing it with everyone else.  If you ask for a kiss, he puckers up his lips and leans in for a big one. If he’s tired or not in the mood, he’ll give you a cheek so you can kiss him at least.

Yesterday during our grocery shopping trip, I came upon a happy fact: Boca Burgers are on sale! The Little Guy loves his soy protein burgers: nothing like packaged protein to get a kid making ‘mmmmm’ noises. He loves them so much that he clung to the package throughout the store: he looked like a little Boca Burger spokesperson, “DAH!”ing at any fellow shopper who would listen to his schpeal. He then proceeded to kiss the package *all* *the* *way* *home*. Mwah!!

Today was Bible Study, a.k.a. play with Maribeth and Sadie and Cole and Jonah day. We started a new study, and the place was bustling! I don’t know if it’s because it was sunny or because the new speaker is much beloved or if females in the ‘berg just couldn’t handle staying home one more day, but every table was packed and then some.

A friend’s son recently gave up his morning nap (at least on Wednesday), and so she was able to join. Towards the end of the study, my achy butt called for some standing time, and my elastibladder had reached its limit, so I went for a brief break. I just “happened” to stop by the nursery (it’s so on the way to the bathroom, going down a long haul, up a long set of stairs, around the corner, down another hall, past about three different sets of bathrooms). I first spied my friend’s baby, standing up holding a doll and a cracker, standing his ground. An adult was standing next to him, and as I looked closer, I saw the Little Man: he looked at the little guy, leaned over, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

I melted. Right there on the spot. Mush.
While we drove home, he blew kisses to all the cars. Some of them he kept, but the majority he gave away. Ben Harper’s “Steal My Kisses” came on the radio, and as I looked back to see him bopping his head like Roxbury guys, I realized no one will have to steal kisses from this kid.

JJ Jawings