|I'm thankful for OP (Optimus Prime)|
Each morning you softly scuttle into my room to wake me with your agenda. I pretend to be asleep as I listen to you turn on the space heater and make transformer sound effects while you warm your body for the day. I think about where the next hour will take us. Into the kitchen where I will ask if you want cereal, and you will decisively request an eggie sandwich to make you taller. You are so attune to growing healthy, and strong like a transformer. You’ll leave the crust on your plate when you’re done and I’ll try to coax you into the bathroom to brush your teeth. You’ll whine, growl, scream that you don’t want to! then walk to the sink as long as I’ve got my eye on you. When you brush the foam will drip down your chin, you’ll contort your wrist to get to that unreachable side, and I will remind you to spit before your paste lather is on the tile floor. You will run out of the bathroom and beg to watch Optimus Prime in your cardboard box transformer suit. The one you have smeared glitter glue onto, crayon, marker, pencil, paint, daily a new kind of decoration for your precious cardboard body. I lay in bed and wonder if you would believe you are stronger braver more heroic than Optimus, because you are what's real. The pictures you have drawn and taped next to my bed are real. The brother who helps his little sister find her shoes is real. The son who works so hard to learn his letters to be an astronaut engineer is real. You grow a little each day, but I won't admit this when you ask me daily to measure your height. I worry about the day you will become too old for my kisses, while I watch you transform to the tall, strong man you will someday become.