I watched Owen on Wednesday for five whole hours, spending alone time with him for the first time in six months and four days.

This is the way he looked when I left:

The night before I went away, I came next door and he ran between us as his parents and I sat in a circle on the kitchen floor and he took turns giving us so many hugs and kisses. He was 16 months and two days old and he’d been a screaming banshee for months, and though it was difficult, I’d watched him several times a week, and I’d hugged him and kissed him and held him tightly until we both fell asleep on the Lovesac in the corner of the basement.

I went over Sunday morning to visit with his parents and with him for the first time since I’ve been back. I played on the floor with him and his cars and his trucks and before I left, I asked for hugs and kisses and in his sweet voice he found in the past six months, he said, “Yeah,” and, “Ta da!” and hugged me tightly and kissed me smack dab on the lips. Mama and Papa said he’d never do that to a stranger and that he must, must, must remember me. Maybe.

Wednesday morning I was nervous how he’d be when he woke up and found me instead of Mama, who’d gone to work. I asked for a hug and a kiss and he said, “Yeah.” I talked about all the fun we’d have and he said, “Yeah.” He refused everything but an entire avacodo for breakfast, which has not changed since he started solids, and then drew me 23-month-old pictures in my Moleskine at the kitchen table. We read ten books and he read them himself while I makeupped myself. We reviewed animal sounds.

I taught him a simple made-up sign for “Ash” and after the third try, he had it memorized and on “command,” he’ll do it with pleasure and follow up with a loud, “TA DA!” and high-fives all ’round.

This is him Wednesday morning, laughing and saying, “Yeah,” and, “No Ash go ‘bye-bye,’” and telling me the other babysitter shouldn’t come and, “TA DA!”

I think it’s safe to say he’s a magical homeboy.