He’s partial to wearing a black Halloween costume that has the white plastic bones of a skeleton on the front. He wears big-boy underpants beneath the costume, the Incredible Hulk ones are his favorite.
With his skeleton outfit, he wears a blue bicycle helment. No socks or shoes (he prefers bare feet), but on his hands, he has my green gardening gloves that have little frogs on them.
He says about a dozen words, signs many more. He loves yogurt and apples. He dislikes green beans (still) and peas are out, too.
He loves books, the piano, and playing air guitar with my wooden spoons.
He sings his made-up songs with wrenching, tender emotion, and when he’s finished, he looks up at me, expecting me to clap. If I forget or am too slow, he claps for himself enthusiastically. Clap-clap-clap, clap-clap-clap!
None of this is what I expected: but it’s exactly right. He’s my second son. My A-baby. My boy with the sparkles in his eyes.