My son, the heartbreaker.

When I picked up Jed from school on Thursday, he was gripping a purple glittery heart he made for Valentine’s Day, so proud of his latest creation. He insisted on holding onto it on the ride home, excited to put it up on the refrigerator. He also wanted to turn it into an airplane, and overzealously tore it to pieces.

“My heart is broken. My heart is broken,” he uttered pitifully and repeatedly the rest of the way home. I had to stifle back my giggles at his choice of words. It was one of those sweet, innocent moments you just want to bottle and save (or blog about). I promised him that we’d make a new heart together to replace the broken one. And that’s what we did today:

He wanted to make it for his friend, Milo, who celebrated his 1st birthday today. I snapped a picture of it before he tried to turn this one into an airplane as well.

I know all of his broken hearts won’t be this easy to fix, but here’s hoping:)

 

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