What Spells Love?

I stare at the computer screen, bleary eyed, sipping coffee while I sort my morning emails.


He appears beside me, four years old and unaffected by the morning.



I continue to sort.



Still I don’t respond.



Roused by the increasing insistence of his plea I match his volume, annoyed.



Finally, willing to finish his sentence, he calmly says,

“Mom, how do you spell love?”


When I managed to return to physical form after melting into a pile of gooey mommy shame, I grab him by the head, pull him into my lap, and kiss as much l-o-v-e into his forehead as he can stand.