"You're mine"

I have a 3 year old boy. It has taken me a long time to understand how a little boy's mind works. I started with my daughter, whom I can read her thoughts as if they were my own, but this boy of mine, has had me stumped. I often think I know what he wants, or needs, and he seems to always throw a wrench in my "Super-Mom" train of thought. I can be making him peanut butter toast (his favorite) and suddenly he will decide he hates it. I must then decipher through his whining, what about this piece of toast is so vile, and try to redeem the snack so that this boy is happy. Because, that's what we Mom's do, we try to make our family happy. (You want me to crawl on all fours, so you can ride a dog? Okay . . .) So, the other day, I was trying to get a little housework done, (crazy, I know), and he comes up to me out of nowhere, throws his arms around my legs and exclaims, "You mine!" Well, I realized, I am. I am utterly his. I cannot deny that. It makes me happy to be owned by a raving monkey boy. I am blessed. Crazy, but blessed.