My Kiss

There is a little boy who loves me.

I mean, he really loves me.

He loves to come running, bounding, full body slam hugging into me.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

This Sunday, after escaping his car successfully, he came bounding through the front door of church.

Running right to me, shouting, "Hash-ee, Hash-ee!"

He gave me his whole hearted hugs, and I kissed his chubby little face.

Then I said, "Jared, where's my kiss?" Implying, of course, I was hoping he would give me a little peck on the cheek back.

Instead, he pointed to my lips.

"No, those are my lips Jared. Where's my kiss?"

Again, he pointed to my lips.

"No, Jared. Those are my lips. Where's my kiss from you?"

You guessed it. Again, he pointed to my lips.

Finally, I figured it out.

"Jared, are you gonna give Hash-ee a kiss too?"

And he planted a big, wet, slobbery kiss on my cheek.

He looked so proud of himself when he saw me smile.

Then he was done with all the love and affection, and off to his class.