Bigger than the sun.

“Mommy? If you attached our car to Daddy’s truck and attached Daddy’s truck to our house and attached our house to grandma’s house and attached grandma’s house to Jupiter and attached Jupiter to Saturn and attached Saturn to the sun…I love you bigger than that.”

Damn. That’s a lot of love, boy.

I’ll wait until you’re bigger to tell you I love you infinity plus one.

Also, the Sun so completely dwarfs all those other objects that it’s silly to waste all the breath attaching them when you could shortcut with “I love you bigger than the Sun” and be done with it. But I won’t tell you that, because who doesn’t need that tiny, wee bit of bonus, Jupiter-sized love? Great Atlas-buoyed heavens, I know I do.

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13 thoughts on “Bigger than the sun.

  1. What a beautiful way to say I love you…Boys are always trying to out do you in saying it…That’s for sharing with all of us the beauty of that statement!

  2. He doesn’t know TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!!!! from Toy Story yet? It’s only a matter of time, brace yourself for Buzz, get yourself a laser gun.

  3. Ah, so sweet.

    Makes me sad. My four-year-old has a speech/language delay and major maturity issues. He’s behind his peers in cognitive capabilities. I’m positive he doesn’t know that other planets exist. We get excited by the very off chance that he says “I love you” without prompting. It’s so discouraging and exhausting. I really thought that by the time he hit 4 that we’d be able to have a conversation, or that he’d at least be asking questions about things. Not really. He asks, “what’s that?” but he never asks “why” questions. He’s in speech therapy, but more and more I wonder if I shouldn’t have him in special ed. When he was assessed last year, they recommended special ed. But I just didn’t think he needed to be in a class with down syndrome kids. Maybe I’m completely wrong about that. Very depressing.

  4. It’s 3:30am, and I’m tired and bleary eyed, up for the 4th time with a sick baby and all I can think of is Darn, I can’t wait till one of my boys say something like that to me.
    Beautiful.

  5. I thought you all might like that…
    jc, please. This is me. The kid never gets to watch any film for which a fast food toy was developed. The poor dear.
    Fie, I sent you an email. I’m so sorry that you’re having to make tough choices about your son’s needs and really sorry that the stuff I often take for granted comes so hard for your family. Big hugs.
    Jen who’s awake—go to sleep. Jen with infinite love—you have to try the plus one. It’s hilarious once they get infinity means there’s nothing bigger.
    Maria, I try to ignore the competition but it drives me nuts.

  6. Were his arms open? I have a vision of flung-wide-open-little-boy arms with this. So sweet.

    Fie, I don’t know you at all, but I work with kids birth-five with special needs (much more variety than kids with Down Syndrome). I can tell you more about what early childhood special ed services look like if you’re curious. E-mail me (fallingblog@gmail.com) if you want any more info. Regardless, I hope it gets easier for you guys.

  7. I’m so glad you wrote all of that down because DAMN that’s a keeper! Beautiful… and you’ve definitely done something right for him to say it!

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