I spent this morning complimenting Bud on things, and he spent the morning correcting me. It's not that he was being humble; it's just that I was choosing all the wrong adjectives.
He read the Christmas card that our news carrier sent us. "What a good reader you are!" I said.
"No, I'm not a good reader," he said.
"You're not?" I asked.
"I'm fabulous," he answered.
Later, it was time to get dressed. "Can I get dressed all by myself?" he asked.
"Sure you can," I said. "What a big boy!"
"No," he said. "I'm fabulous."
When he was finished dressing (all in red and only half backwards), he came into my room to show me what he'd done.
"You look so handsome!" I gushed.
"No. Fabulous," he corrected.
As the morning wore on, the sniffles that Bud has been battling for days began to settle in his throat, giving him a froggy voice. Seizing the opportunity as it arose, Bud began scripting the characters he knows who speak in crackly, froggy voices, like Eeyore ("Come back anytime, soon as it's a windy day.") and the fox from Dr. DeSoto ("How I love them raw...")
I laughed and hugged Bud. "You are SO CUTE!" I said.
"I'm not cute," he said. "I'm fabulous."
I had promised Bud pizza today, so despite his croaky voice and his rapidly waning energy, I piled him into the car to head to the pizza shop. As I helped him settle into his booster seat, Bud exploded into a raspy, wheezy cough.
"Oh, Bud," I said. "You don't sound good."
"I don't sound good," he repeated sadly.
"But you know what you DO sound?" I said, as I leaned over him to buckle his seat belt.
"What?" he croaked.
"FABULOUS," I answered. Bud smiled widely as he reached out, grabbed my neck, and hugged me so tight he choked me.