charming the charmer

Our C. Bear is quite the charmer. I don’t mean he’s smiley – which he is. I don’t mean he’s funny – which he is. I don’t mean he’s cute – which he is.

I mean he’s charming. He looks into your eyes, judges what will make you smile/melt and do it over and over until you are putty in his chubby little hands. There are many days when I pick him up from the nursery that the teacher says, “Oh, you’re Bear’s Mom! He is just the sweetest, funniest little fella, isn’t he?”

When I’m shopping with just Bear, rarely does a stranger pass who isn’t quickly enthralled by his spell of cheeks and giggles. His charms work equally well on men, women, children, babies, adults, babysitters, nursery workers, cashiers, and friends.

He’s a non-discriminate charmer, but oh my – he’s a charmer indeed.

It turns out though, that the charmer does have an Achilles heel. There is something out there that will charm him, melt him, and fill his little heart up so much it makes his bootie wiggle.

I’m certain I’ve never been known for having a charismatic or charming personality. I doubt I’ve ever made anyone’s heart melt the way Bear does. That’s okay, though.

I’m content that my smile makes his day. That tucked into my hand is where he wants his to be. That my arms make him feel safe, that my shoulder is where he wants to lie his head, that I know precisely what will make him laugh, smile, and dance.

That’s right. It’s part of my SuperMom powers. I can charm the charmer.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Charming McSweetie is trying to kiss my nose. Clearly, I’m the one doing the charming in this relationship. Clearly.

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