I SORT OF LIKE YOU A BILLION.

I really like hanging out with you.
I tell him,
walking down city sidewalk.

Oh.
He says.
I sort of like hanging out with you.

I really enjoy the dragon you're drawing.
I tell him
as he scribbles furiously; spaghetti sauce on white shirt messy with pen & marker combo.

Oh.
He says.
I sort of enjoy what you're drawing,
a little bit.

Do I look handsome, Daddy?
He asks.

Yes.
I tell him, smiling. 
You look so striking with
three swords,
a cape, 
and pigtailed hair.
How about me: do I look handsome?

Umm...
he says.
Sort of, but not very much.

Yum...
I compliment myself aloud.
I did a great job making supper.
Isn't it delicious?

It's...
sort of good.
He acknowledges.
But Mama makes better food than you.

Well,
I say.
Bedtime!

Oh.
He says.
Daddy?

Yes?
I respond.

Do you want to lay by me for a thousand hours?

No need to repeat the invite.

Absolutely,
I say,
snuggling into a highly uncomfortable position alongside that will leave my back aching for days;
my heart swinging.

Absolutely sort of completely.

I had a good day with you.
I whisper.

Oh.
He whispers back.
I had an awful, horrible, rotten day with you.

I don't believe you, buddy.
I kiss his cheek,
and his grubby hand wipes it away in the dark.

Love you a billion.

Good night, all.