I lub you, Mommy

It's going to be tough to top last year's Mother's Day for my wife.

On that special day, my then 21-month-old son, Robert, and I set out to make the best Mother's Day surprise ever.

Robert had a very limited vocabulary at that time. His repertoire was, "No poo-poo in the bathtub," "What a mess," and "Daddy's head isn't a drum." That was about it. Obviously, he couldn't write and he couldn't plan. So I was going to have to do all the work for this Mother's Day. In years to come, I'll let Robert pay me back.

Mommy was out of the house on her special day getting a facial with her mom. That left Robert and me two hours to set up our presentation.

Robert started on a colorful poster to welcome Mommy home. I got to work on a flower production. I set a dozen roses up on the dinner table, then created a path of petals from the table to the front door.

Next, I attempted to sign a Mother's Day card from Robert and me. Since I'm a writer, I didn't really feel like writing, but then again, I'm a writer, so I had to write a bunch. The more words, the more thought. And the more thought, the more special the card is for Mommy.

I couldn't think of anything special to say. I turned on the radio. The steady flow of sound usually makes me work faster.

I checked on Robert. His poster was looking just fine.

I got back to the card and wrote a few sentences. They weren't good sentences.

I took another break from writing and set up the magazines Robert and I bought for Mommy. She loves reading entertainment news magazines. We bought a bunch. I put them in a little basket made out of my son's Lego blocks. My wife would think Robert made the display.

I got back to the card and wrote a few more sentences. They weren't any better and I began contemplating buying another card. I've wrecked a number of cards in my lifetime by writing junk in them.

Meanwhile, Robert had begun coloring in Mommy's magazines. I had totally missed out on that because at about the same time I heard about a contest on the radio. If you called in to the station and could somehow prove you had the best mom in the world, you'd receive $1,000. What a great reason to stop writing in the card.

I grabbed the phone and called in. I was immediately connected to a machine. "Do you want to speak on the air?" the electronic voice asked. "Say yes or no." I caught sight of Robert. Having moved on from the poster, he was drawing his interpretation of "no poo-poo in the bathtub" on Mommy's magazines.

"No!" I yelled.

"You've just said no," the electronic voice said over the phone. "Is that your final answer?"

"No," I said into the phone. "I mean, yes, I want to speak on the air. Yes."

Robert looked at me. "Yes?" he asked, and got back to coloring in Mommy's magazines.

"No," I said.

"You've just said no again," the electronic voice said.

"You piece of junk, yes, yes, yes," I screamed. Robert softly repeated after me, "You piece of junk."

"No," I said to him.

"You've just said no for the third time," the voice said. "Do you want to speak on the air, or what?"

"Yes, I do," I said. The machine put me on hold.

As I put Robert back to work on his poster, I began to envision Mommy coming home to a $1,000 prize. I could cancel my Mother's Day dinner reservation at the dumpy neighborhood restaurant and we'd go to a nice place. I'd be a hero.

Interrupting my fantasy were the sounds of water splashing and a toilet being flushed. I carried the phone into the flooded bathroom to find roses in the toilet and all over the floor. And there was Robert, saying "What a mess."

Suddenly I found myself on the radio with the host, who asked why I had the best mom in the world. He said I should speak quickly because I only had 10 seconds, and I'd better start talking.

I had gotten so caught up thinking about the prize money, I didn't know what to say when I got on the air.

By the time Mommy got home, her magazines were wrecked, her flowers were in the toilet, the posters weren't finished and her Mother's Day card was still a work-in-progress-and a bad one at that.

And Robert and I didn't win the $1,000.

Mommy's face said it all when she saw the mess inside the house. Robert spoke for her: "What a mess."

Before I could add anything to that, Robert said-from out of nowhere, "I lub you, Mommy."

He'd never said he loved anyone before. Mommy's tears of joy said it all.

Yep, that was the best Mother's Day that Mommy could ever want. And now she's going to want something to top that. What am I going to do? I suppose that radio station will have another contest this year. This time I'll-

I gotta go. I just heard the toilet flush and Robert's alone.

E-mail Michael Picarella at pic@theacorn.com. Nice comments only. The author is very fragile.