Sonshine

Today I stopped at David's school for a quick PAC errand.  As I was leaving, the end-of-the-day bell rang, and kids were pouring from the classrooms.  One kid caught my eye.  My kid; tall, blonde, red sweatshirt.  Yep, my son.  Our eyes met, his filled with confusion as to why I was there.  I knew better than to act too excited to see him.  He would die.  Or at least he would pretend to die.  I think he really likes me, most of the time.

As he approached, I held up my fist for a bump, and asked "Do you want a ride home?"
"Nah" he said bumping.  He continued down the hall to catch the bus.  (Anyone else think it a little strange that he WANTS to ride the bus home?)  I was perfectly fine with that, knowing that the bus ride home is some strange sort of debriefing time for him.

Walking to my car I heard "Jaron! Jaron!" and I looked to see an elated preschooler hanging out of a parked car yelling to his older brother.  Jaron took off running toward the car, and the two boys embraced in a forever hug!

I thought how nice it would be to have someone be that excited to see me. 
I remembered that my kids used to be that excited to see me. 
I remembered how sweet it was to hear "Mommy! Mommy!"
Now I get a fist bump.
But I love those fist bumps!
It means we understand each other; I don't embarrass him and he knows I need to "hug" him.  Fist hug?
We are in a good place.
Mutually respecting each other.
That's my sonshine.