Things like shouting "HI MOM!" from across the room when his brother is on the phone with me. Or cutting himself off mid-whine to solve his own dilemma about baseball pants. Or searching high and low on the Internet to make sure he gets me exactly what I want, and the only thing I asked for, at a price even I won't make a fuss over. (Bill and Ted AND the B-52's, for less than $20 for BOTH! Santa loves me, yes he does!)
These things keep me coming back to this insanity night after night, when it would be so easy to just keep driving past my exit on the interstate. Well, these things and the fact that there simply isn't anyone else on the planet who hugs me just like these three guys do. Protected, loved and cherished; these hugs are as much a haven for me as they are for my boys. Which totally explains why I torture them night after night, day after day, in front of friends and girlfriends; demanding that they march themselves over and hug me.
There is, of course, one more certainty in life. That being the absolute certainty of my love of toe socks, and sharing that love with my recently-brainwashed-to-the-dark-side-with-me nieces.