L. (3) is often concerned with how I am feeling.

For example, though he seems to have no problem whatsoever with disobeying and defying me multiple times per hour, he would prefer for me to remain perpetually “Happy.” (And, when I appear to be not-so-happy — such as when I discipline him for the aforementioned disobedience and defiance — he’s been know to scream at the top of his lungs, “Happy Mommy! Happy Mommy! I need Happy Mommy!” Charming.)

I guess he’s figured out that the old adage is true: If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy. And he prefers the happy.

Sometimes, however, my facial expression does not conclusively reveal my inner emotions, and L. is forced to ask me exactly what it is that I’m feeling. About six months ago, he started asking me, “Mommy, what does your face say?” which was his way of asking what feelings he should associate with my current expression.

Cute, yes. And hey — a boy who knows how to ask someone what they’re feeling — that’s a skill that could come in handy when he’s married, if he can hold on to it. So I’ve encouraged him by always answering this question.

Over the months, he’s changed his question, and now he often looks at me searchingly and says, “What’s that face?” To which I reply, “It’s my ‘I’m happy’ face” or “It’s my ‘I’m hungry’ face” or any other of a number of responses.

The other day, L. called me from his room during his “quiet” play time because he had to use the bathroom. I’ve been sick for over a week and so I half-stumbled to his bedroom to escort him.

He took one look at me and said, “What’s that face, Mommy?”

“Oh, it’s just my ‘I’m very tired’ face, buddy.”

Then I turned it around on him. “How about you, L.? What face do you have?”

To which he answered: “Oh, it’s just my ‘I have to poop’ face.”

Needless to say, I got him to the bathroom immediately.

And I’m not sure if I’ll be asking that question again.