bowling ball

Is it wrong for me to be utterly and completely enamored of my almost-year-old Zachary?

I love that his head feels like a bowling ball beneath my hand. I love the sounds he makes when he's rassling with Inti. I love that when I just can't wake up in the morning, I can open the door and finish off my nap with him all snuggled up against me.

I love that when he's digging down at the beach, he'll eventually start making frustrated yelps and howls. I love that when he's raring to go, he'll shriek in protest even while he's sitting and obeying. I love the way he's maturing into a very confident and friendly brute. I love the way his right ear stands at half-mast most of the time.

Inti is sweet, gentle, quiet. She's my shadow and has been my companion for a long time now. There's no replacing the love I feel for her. But Zach, well, he's a pistol. I love that he's like a tractable teenage boy.

Mostly, though, it's that bowling ball head thing.