Jack

Jack.  I really love being his Mama.  Even on those days when I've said, "JAAAACCCKKK, NOOOO! " nearly a thousand times.  He is my joy.  I love his spunk.  I admire his spirit.  I relish his laugh.  I crave his sweetness.  

Being his Mama means I will always have laughter in my life.  Just because I have him.  He's my constant, unwavering guarantee that my days will be full of laughter.  Doubled-over, cheek-aching laughter.  

And as predictable as it is to know that he will bring me laughter-filled days, exactly when those moments will happen is equally unpredictable.   

The other day, the boys and I walked up and down the aisles at Michaels, looking at stickers, sifting through coloring books and choosing our favorite paint colors.  As we passed the jewelry aisle,  Jack stopped and stared, admiring the assortment of colorful beads.  He darted up the aisle for a closer look. 

Jack, dressed from head to toe in his cowboy attire, grabbed every necklace and jewelry accessory his little hands could reach.  And my little cowboy, giddy with excitement, began to sing.  Loudly.  Very loudly.

Sing what?

Well, my boy's three year old brain must associates beads and sequins with the amazing Beyonce.  Because there, on the jewelry aisle of Michaels, dressed as John Wayne, Jack began to belt out "Single Ladies."  His impromptu concert went a little something like this...

Grab a necklace, shout, "Hey, Mama! Uh-oh, Single Ladies!  Single Ladies!  Wo oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh oh!" Don't let your cowboy boots keep you from being light on your feet.  Drop the necklace, grab a brooch, belt out, "Single Ladies! Single Ladies! Wo oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh oh!"  Completely ignore the store manager who is deep in conversation with a customer about which gauge wire is best for a bracelet.  Drop the brooch, grab a container of loose beads, sing at the top of your lungs, "Uh, oh!  Uh, oh! Single Ladies, Mama! Single Ladies! Wo oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh ooh oh oh oh!" Flip your hands back and forth as you sing, just like Beyonce does.  Sing your heart out, but wrap the concert up as soon as you reach the end of the aisle.  Because, really, stepping stone kits don't quite evoke a need for Beyonce like beads do.

Jack.  My constant joy.  Man, I love him.  Because he sees nothing wrong with singing "Single Ladies" in the aisles of a craft store.  And neither do I.