“Alright… bowls,” I mutter, turning to the cabinet. I’m just reaching for the handle when—
“Boo!”
“Jesus!” I jump back, my heart leaping into my throat.
Elijah bursts into giggles, his handsome yet cheeky little face popping out from behind the cabinet door. “I scared you!”
I press a hand to my racing heart, trying to look stern. But his laughter is contagious, and I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” I raise an eyebrow. “Scaring poor, defenseless Mommy?”
Elijah just giggles harder, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not de-fen-seless! You’re like… like Ash! From Pokémon!”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Ash, huh? Does that make you my little Pikachu?”
He nods vigorously, his curly hair bouncing. “Yes! And I’m gonna zap you with my thunderbolt!”
He scrunches up his face, making little electric buzzing noises. His hands are balled into fists like he’s channeling all his Pikachu power.
I clutch my chest dramatically. “Oh, no! I’ve been hit! Pikachu’s thunderbolt is too strong!”
I pretend to stagger, making Elijah laugh even harder. His high-pitched giggles fill the kitchen, drowning out the bubbling of the pasta.
“Quick, Pikachu! Use your healing power to save me!” I gasp, slumping against the counter.
Elijah rushes over, his little hands patting my face. “I’ll save you, Mommy! Pikachu’s got you!”
I open one eye, peeking at him. “Is it working? Am I healed?”
He nods seriously. “Yes. Pikachu’s healing power always works.”
I stand up straight, scooping him into a hug. “My hero! What would I do without you?”
He hugs me back, his little arms squeezing tight. “You’ll never have to find out. I’ll always protect you.”
My heart melts a little at that.
This little boy, my whole world.
I don’t know what I did to deserve him, but I’m grateful every single day.
“Alright, my brave little Pokémon. Ready for some breakfast?”
“Yes! I’m starving!” He rubs his tummy for emphasis.
I laugh, setting him down. “Okay, okay. Go wash up, and I’ll dish up some Pika-pasta.”
“Pika-pasta! Yes!” He zooms off to the bathroom, making more zapping noises as he goes.
I turn back to the stove, a smile still on my face. The pasta’s ready, the sauce thick and rich. I dish it up into two bowls, making sure to give Elijah an extra big portion. My little Pokémon trainer needs his energy.
As I set the bowls on the table, I hear Elijah chattering away in the bathroom. He’s narrating some epic Pokémon battle, complete with sound effects. His imagination never ceases to amaze me.
“Mommy! Can we have pepperoni pizza tonight?” He bounds back into the kitchen, his face still a bit damp from washing. “Pretty, pretty please?”
I pretend to think about it. “Hmm… I don’t know. Have you been a good Pokémon trainer?”
“The best!” he insists, climbing into his chair. “I even cleaned my room yesterday!”
