Someday, my son, you will tell me that I embarrass you. You will hide from my wacky ways and wince when I perform my silly antics in front of people. Someday you will wish you could just click your heels and disappear.
On those days I will remind you of today. I will remind you of our dinner out with good friends at Red Robin. I will remind you how you cried three times at dinner over silly things; how you fought with your brother over the video games; how you refused to give him his last turn and instead flung yourself screaming on the ground. I will remind you how you head-butted my knees and tried to make me lose my temper. I will remind you how you rolled across the floor screaming as I dragged you to the parking lot; how you did everything in your power to pop Lucas' balloon (since you most certainly did not get one). I will remind you how you sobbed the whole way home, "I DON"T WANT TO GO TO BED!" I will remind you how I kissed you, flopped you onto your bed, told you I loved you but could not listen to you anymore and closed the door.
I love you - even when you are embarrassing.