He is so thrilled as he presents it, arm extended and pages and pages flopping down and he, on one foot, biting his bottom lip and grinning because he just knows he's going to overflow my heart with all this greatness.  I read it out loud and he explains the pictures and he's oh so proud.  Isn't it strange how the one who can break your heart hardest is also the one who works so hard to stitch it up with sneaky hugs and crayoned patches?

When he loves me loudly I can't help but boast it.  See?  I do matter to this little human who pretends so hard to be stone cold.

And when he loves me loudly I pray I never go deaf.