kariskhaos

He skates into the kitchen with his socks and slides into my chair. He taps me on the shoulder and ducks, thinking that somehow his lanky six-foot three body can hide behind me. I laugh, as he pops up, gives my shoulders a squeeze, and asks if he can have something sweet to eat. Isaac asked if I write more about him than anyone else in the family. Laughing I say, well you do give me plenty to write about. “Because I am so funny?” he asks, trying to sound serious. Ummm ya, that’s it Isaac, you are a funny boy, that is for sure.

Isaac is indeed funny, he is often obnoxious, and thrives on getting a rise out of his family and friends, as I have blogged about before. His saving grace is his tender heart.
Isaac is a large bony teddy bear. He is the one who still will straggle his body across me and let me hold him in my lap. This seventeen year old boy of mine still tells me every day that he loves me. He does not even mumble it like so many other things.

When I get annoyed or frustrated or actually really pissed off at him he always manages to find his way back into my graces with his soft heart. He does not shrink from my touch, he lets me hug him and actually hugs me back. When we sit on the couch he will cuddle with me, he even let’s me play with his hair. If we are at odds with each other or he is upset about something I still crawl onto his bed, where we are usually joined by Gus and talk it out.

Isaac loves to put his arm around me, jump on my back, pull my hair, poke me, have contact in some way shape or form and I am so thankful for that. I am a touchy, feely gal. Hugs are vital to my existence and my love language is touch. I am continually blessed that even as Isaac gets older, more independent,and mature he is still my little boy, and I hope he never changes. Wait, scratch that, I would change that he still asks me to trim his toe nails, and has a hard time understanding why I would say no. Hug me Isaac, and the world is your oyster.