Lately my son, Oliver, has become a bit of a wrestle-maniac. His signature moves include The Armpit and The Toot (a small, but powerful fart timed for maximum effect). It seems that every time I pick him up, I'm getting treated to one of these. He's not feeling as gushy in the love department as he once was, instead asserting his big kid status as a 5 1/2 year old with a hug that quickly turns rowdy. However, this morning I woke up with a headache and a not so happy tummy (plus I stayed up late watching The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo - take my word for it - it's icky), and I needed a little lovin' so I scooped him up, and said, "Come on, give me a good squeeze, because I need it and you're getting bigger, but you're still my little baby..." Not too desperate or dramatic, right? To which he responded with a nice big hug - then wrapped his arm around my face, armpit to nose, and said, "Take that, mama!"