Mama! Polo!

I don't know if it's the string of rainy days and the resulting time indoors, but lately I've been joking that I need one of those counters they use to see how many people drive over a road, or enter a concert. Just a tiny hand-held ticker to record how many times a day Cole says my name. Honestly, it must be in the thousands. Or at least it feels that way.

(The title of this post is a game I play in my own head, where he calls for me, and I answer "polo!")

Tonight, almost a full hour after we put him to bed, he was still calling out my name.

"Mama, I'm scared."
"Mama, my pillow is weird."
"Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama."
"Maaaaaaaaama.....maaaaaaamaaaaaa."
"Mama, I'm not snuggled in."

Honestly. As unbearably cute as he is, and as much as I love his, uh, devotion, there are times it gets to be a bit much.

So when he started up a chorus about having a hair in his mouth, ("Maaaaaama, I have a hair in my mouth. I can't get it." "Mama! Maaaaaaaama...") I called out, "Dad's going to help you in a second."

"No," came the whiny retort. "I want maaaama."

Me, snapping: "Cole, that's just stupid."

Silence.

"Dada..."
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My mom sent some cute Valentine's Day cards for both kids, and had a grand time with their mail. Riis watched Cole tear open his, and copied him as best she could.









Obviously, all of the excitement wore her out.