He's either with his older sister or his younger sister, or both of them at the same time. And since the younger sister came along, he's forfeited his own room for a shared space with bright pink walls, and his super cool fire engine collection to a little toddler who thinks the fire engine siren is an animal sound.
Didn't Old McDonald have fire trucks on his farm?
So I know he needs some time alone with me, but that time is hard to come by, with a sitter just two mornings a week which I try to reserve for work, or at least work that requires a continuous thought.
But what I could do during those few precious hours I could do at 11pm - something I can't say for spending time with my son, or at least that I wish I couldn't say thanks to his three-time midnightly visits and sleepover parties these days.
But he needs it. I need it. We need it.
And so off we went on a surprise trip to the Georgia Aquarium.
I chased him around the fish tanks, with three second stops in between to actually look at fish.
And I held his hand. Only his.
We ate lunch and sat next to each other, admiring his new plastic submarine and intensely discussing why hammer head sharks' heads were shaped like hammers.
He thanked me every other breath - for taking him to the aquarium, for buying him a toy, and for giving him his favorite "Guacamo-wee."
And I thanked him, secretly, for letting me be his mom.
Because on days when it feels like a job, and boy, that's a whole lot of days, I need times like these to remind me that I'm pretty damn lucky.