Gideon Michael Gore definitely has a way with words…
He can say things that completely melt your heart, looking up with those big blue eyes, framed by the ridiculously long and thick eyelashes that are seemingly typical of boys. Things like…
You’re my best fwiend…
Your wedding dress was wovewy. (lovely)….
I wish we could stay here forever. (while cuddled up in my arms listening to Christmas music)….
You’re a beautiful flower….
Just to name a few!
But then sometimes, his “compliments” can leave you…hanging.
Like the time his Papa whispered to him to come and tell me that I was pretty. Gideon, two at the time, walked across the living room, looked me right in the eye and said “You’re pretty like a boy.”
He went through a phase where he was truly impressed by “big ol’ teeth” and would tell most anybody “I like your big ol’ teeth!” I went along behind him, hastily explaining that that was a compliment and that he said it to everyone, even people with small teeth.
But my personal favorite came one day early in the first trimester of this third pregnancy, when I had spent many a day curled into a ball on the couch with my hair all askew and my make-up nonexistent. For some reason, perhaps to get me off the couch, Mr. Gore decided to take me on a date. I got all gussied up, wearing a grey wool shift dress with black tights, short black boots and a black cardigan. I walked into the living room feeling like a new woman. Gideon took one look at me and reverently breathed, “Oh Mama…you look so beautiful.” I had barely gotten out a surprised “Why thank you, Gideon!” before he finished his heartfelt “compliment.” “You look like a mean ol’ witch!”
But wait, friends, there’s more.
A few weeks ago while he was in my big slipper bathtub taking a leisurely bath as I tidied up the adjoining bedroom, I heard him say “You’re my best friend.” He says this to me quite often, and so I called out a confident reply “Awww, Gid, you’re my best friend too!”
“I was talking to myself.” he answered.
I stopped what I was doing, peeked my head into the bathroom and said “Gideon!”, sputtering a little in offense, when he said “Well, you’re my best friend…”
and just as I got out the “th” in “thank you” for this rectification, he wounded me once more,
And then yesterday, as I loaded into the van before church, hefting myself and all of my extra pregnancy poundage up and into the front seat, Gideon, already buckled into his seat, said with all the awe and amazement in the world, “Mama! You just made the whole van move!” He was so genuinely impressed and proud of me, I responded as I usually do in light of my earnest son’s “compliments”…
“Ummmmm…thank you? I think….”