I made the list

For as long as I have known Austin, we have had a love like relationship. I love him, and he pretends to only like me (but it's a like comparable to a love). To fully understand this relationship, you have to understand Austin's relationship with love.

Austin had a total of 5 people he loves. His parents, his Nana and his brothers. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. In Austin's long six and a half years of life, nobody has come close to making the love list. Not his aunts, uncles, other grand parents and even Jesus have never made that list.

Even Jesus. I feel the need to emphasize this. I remember asking him, or maybe it was Zach asking him, "But you love Jesus, right?" He calmly and sweetly replied, "No, I only like Jesus." I foresaw this being an issue in the inevitable future as he was attending regular Sunday school and a Lutheran preschool. I imagined a class of preschoolers singing a song about loving Jesus, only to have Austin earnestly protest, "No. No. No. I only like Jesus." That never happened, but the opportunity for the scenario to play out may still present itself.

A person that has made the "like" list knows that Austin's "like" is the most genuine and honest like you will ever feel. He says it so nicely that you know it is almost a love. It's barely a step down from a love, but a step down none the less.

I had minor issues with this like vs love business. I had accepted, for the most part, being committed to Austin's love list until I had married Zach (that was the time line he eventually gave me after only admitting to liking me for a year or so). I was alright with a like because I knew that Austin genuinely loved me. It wasn't until last Sunday that I had enough.

We were sitting at the dining table. The boys have thing they do whenever we all sit down together. They go through the list of family and make everyone repeat after them like so:

"Say... I love you daddy!" (I love you daddy!)
"Say... I love you Jacki!" (I love you Jacki! or I like you Jacki! (if you are Austin))

Until the whole family has been named. Then Wyatt usually runs through the objects in the room and everyone loses interest but him. This last Sunday, we made it through the whole family and then proceeded onto Anna. I waited for Austin's response, "I love you Anna!"

Hold up. How can I fall behind a dog? How can that big, slobbery mess outdo me? I was instantly hurt and upset. I couldn't help but feel jealous of that fat headed mutt. Austin asked me what was wrong right before I tucked him in for bed that night. I told him that my ego and feelings were kind of wounded. I told him I knew that he loved me. And he said, "Well I do. But I already told you I wasn't going to tell you I loved you until after the wedding."

I wasn't going to try to persuade a six year old to declare his love for me. My feelings had been hurt, but my pride was still intact. Instead, I told him, "Maybe you'll tell me you love me tomorrow." To which he responded, "Maybe..."

I told him goodnight and kissed him on the top of the head. I told him I loved him and started walking towards the door and braced myself to hear him declare his like for me, when he said, "I love you too! I tricked you this whole time, huh?"

Where Hercules went

If you ask the adults in this family where Hercules went, you'll get one of two answers. If you are under the age of 7, you'll learn that Hercules is our special guardian angel. I might even tell them how lucky we are to have someone extra special taking care of us. If you are over the age of 7, I'll describe the loss of my first biological child and talk about how I'm learning to deal with the unfairness of it. That I can't help but feeling angry that someone thought they could take better care of my child than I can. I'm getting over the angry part, and working on coming to peace... but I haven't quite reached that stage yet.

If you ask Austin, Hercules has blue or white hair and he is up in heaven. Hercules may be on a cloud one day or sleeping in the sunshine the next. Austin may bring you a book the doctor's gave us and read it aloud to you (he has it memorized by now). He'll tell you through tear filled eyes that he misses Hercules, but may ask to watch the Backyardigans on Netflix shortly after to feel better. He deals with it like you would expect a 6 year old to.

If you ask William, he'll adamantly tell you Hercules is with God. Fighting Ninjas. Or bowling. I'm not an expert on God by any means, so I'm certainly not in any position to correct a three year old on God's daily activities. He goes to a Lutheran preschool, so it seems like he may be onto something.

If you ask Wyatt, he'll tell you that Hercules is in his belly. I don't think Hercules is literally in his belly and I don't really think he is figuratively either. Wyatt is two so he may very well mean his heart. But he will adamantly deny any such notion and will continue to claim that Hercules is in fact in his belly.