Zach does this thing he calls “chumming.” It’s not like baiting the water or stirring it so the fish come up. It’s more like poking you in the stomach when you least expect it. In fact, that’s exactly what it is.
He’s done this for a while. I remember when he was really young, he’d get in trouble because he’d do this to women as though they could breastfeed him or something. I’d even have to warn or protect or apologize to young ladies in the children’s ministry at church because of this charming habit of his.
Well, it’s been a couple years now, and he still chums people. He still hasn’t grown out of it. Like if I’m relaxing on a couch and he’s nearby, I better watch out – I might get chummed. Or even if I just want to hug him, his hands will try to snake up under my shirt.
I’ll half hate it and half know I’ll look back and think it was all cute. Stupid brain of mine that does that.
But whatever. I’m writing about it because too many of these memories get lost in the fog as time flies forward.
