It's The Way He Says It

It took me about three months to get the boy to tell me that he loves me, about another two months to get him to say it each time we got off the phone for our last conversation for the night, about three more months to say it in public, and only recently does he say it just about every time we end conversations. (For the record, we talk at least twice a day, and usually, four or five times.)

I don't think that's too strange; I tell Wade and she tells me me, "I love you" when we talk, and B. and I regularly exchange love. (Not like that, you perverts.)

Still, there's nothing better than when the boy and I are talking, and he, almost mindlessly, says to me, "I love you I love you I love you." It's almost like he's just breathing, it's such a part of him now, I'm such a part of him now, that it's unconscious, an essential fact. He'll say it when he's looking for a particular word or a good segue to our next topic. Used to be, he'd hum the Simpsons theme when mentally searching, now, it's, "I love you".

I am spoiled by this one.