He is transparent in his need, wears his adoration openly.
He says as soon as he thinks it, hold me, or I want to hold you, hold me tight, and will not relent until we are in each others' arms.
He does not compliment us, hardly uses the word love. His ardor is concrete, always present. He needs us always, wants to know we are near, listening. When I cry, he brings me his ball; you want dis? For you. When I am working nearby, he brings me a little stick, You want some chock-late? Thank you very much.
He doesn't care whether say I love him. He wants me to look at him, to hold him, listen to him, sing to him, play with him, protect him, take care of him.
He asks for a story, asks to hold my hand, climbs into my lap, asks for water. He needs them equally.
