Resisting Kisses

The Boy is a biter. 
A hitter. 
A licker. 
A pincher. 
A squeezer. 
A hand-flapper. 
A climber. 
A jumper.  
A negotiator. 
A manipulator.  
A MASTER manipulator.


I realize this just a few moments ago. When Joseph walks into The Boy's room and finds him climbing up the book shelf.  


"GET DOWN!" Joseph yells.      


Joseph isn't a yeller. He's good cop. I'm bad cop. The roles just come naturally.  So yelling - that's my job (the neighbors must love it). The Boy starts to cry. Not just cry.  SOB!  As if someone is cutting off his limbs with a butter knife. The tears are falling down his face, snot is running down his nose. His little chest is pumping up and down and he opens his mouth to talk but can't control his crying long enough to get a word out.  


The Boy wraps his arms around Joseph's legs. "Pick you up.  To hug you." (The Boy gets 'you' and 'me' confused)


So what does Joseph do? He picks The Boy up. I watch from the end of the hallway, shaking my head. Sucker.


The Boy puts both hands on Joseph's cheeks and kisses him. "Daddeee.  I woove you." 


I had to walk away. Even though I wanted to go up to The Boy and give him a kiss and a hug for spontaneously saying something so completely appropriate.  Resisting kisses. That's what the bad cop has to do.