Hot, Hot, Hot


Hot: adjective (hot, hot-ter, hot-test) having a high temperature.

This is how I use the word “hot.”

“No touch! Hot!” or, “Danger! Hot!”

These phrases are usually uttered as expletives when I’m pulling something out of the oven or taking something off of the stove and people under five feet tall are zooming past my feet.

This is how Luke, my four year old, used the word last night:

“Selena Gomez is hot!”

Fortunately, he wasn’t quite clear on the concept. He went on to call other things he likes “hot,” like Star Wars action figures and granola bars. Of course he’s just parroting how Andy feels about the young actress, but that’s another post.

When my oldest was four, he still loved shows like Little Bear and Dora the Explorer. There were no older siblings around to corrupt his vocabulary with elementary school slang and turn on shows with a laugh track. Every word that fell from his darling pouty lips I could trace back to either me, my husband, or Dora.

“Cuidado!” (Be Careful!) “Vamanos!” (Let’s go!) “Espera!” (Wait!)

Oh, those were good times…

Now Luke and Dean sing along when Kate rocks out to Justin Bieber (Dean mostly just dances) or when Paul works out to Black Eyed Peas. The only songs Andy knew at that age were call and response songs and Happy Birthday.

Luke knows how to huff and roll his eyes thanks to the saucy six and eight year olds around here. This morning when I took a toy away from him, he sobbed, “You’re breaking my heart, Mom! You’re trying to ruin my life!” I didn’t think that kind of drama was even possible for another 10 years or so.

But thankfully, his attention span still holds true for a boy his age. Not twenty minutes later he had forgotten all about the ugly toy incident and was happy to run off and play with cousins.

Oh, he is still my baby in many ways. He still naps. He still cuddles. He still likes Dora. So he’s a little hot to handle, but he is hilarious. And when I think about him growing up and turning five, the only word that comes to mind is,



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