Better than Gingerbread Men

I have this fond memory of my childhood with my mother: She used to make gingerbread men with me when I was really young. I am actually really thankful to have that memory, but when I shared it with my kids this morning, they asked if I had nice memories of them - so here they are:

When Kyle was born I loved (more than anything else up until that point in my life) the 3am feedings. I could sit and look at him and hold him and watch "I Love Lucy" or "Twilight Zone" while he ate. It was the best feeling ever! I loved when he was 2 and learning his alphabet and potty training which led to him saying that he went "Q" in the potty (think about it). I loved watching him when he was 4 play like he was a tank and shoot his fingers at the side of his ears. I love that he is still not embarrassed to kiss me hello or good-bye in front of his friends and he will be seventeen this year.

When Jake was little if he had been at preschool or when he was in elementary school I would always make a big deal saying that he had a new freckle on his nose when I picked him up. I would point at it and kiss it and he would laugh and say "stop mom!" but then once in a while when I'd forget he'd ask "Mom, do I have a new freckle today?" We also played the game "Who is the best mom?" I would ask, "Jake, who is the BEST mom in the world?" and he would respond, "Karen" and I'd start tickling him, so he'd say "No mom, wait stop." I'd stop tickling and he'd say, "Sister Mikesell," and the tickling would begin again. It would go on along those lines until eventually he'd kiss me and say that of course I was the best mom. I love that even though he says I am a big dork, I think that he still thinks I am the best mom.