He is his father's son

A few weeks ago, one of the speakers in church was a young man, about 16-years-old.  He gave a nice talk, and at the end he got a little choked up talking about how grateful he was for his mother.  It was very sweet.

I leaned over to my husband and whispered in his ear: "Our sons are never going to do this for me. I can already tell."

They do love me, and they will continue to love me, but public declarations that are sweet and moving?  I highly doubt it.

Then this week my second son brought home a valentine he wrote for me as an assignment in school.  It said:

Dear Mom,

I love you.  I love that you look like a worm.  I will bring you lots of dirty dirt to eat.  I will flush you down the toilet and into the sewers.  Happy Valentine's Day.

I wouldn't trade him for the world.