He cocks his head on one side, looking at me.

It always makes me feel nervous, as if he were judging me. Which he does, of course. Children always judge. Sometimes, they even forgive.

'You know what?'

'No. What?' I say, sighing. I point at the toothbrush and repeat, for the eighth time: 'you need to brush your teeth.'

'You are the best mamma in the world. Just a bit...'

Just a bit...I wait.

'Shout-ish.'

Shoutish.

I smile, and then laugh. I am shoutish.

The same way I am insecurish, mixed-upish, lowish, tenderish, etc...

But never loving-ish.

Always, always just 'loving'.