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Momma's Boys

"Rich, come on," Wentworth Tozier shakes his son, making him flutter his eyes open. Upon seeing his father waking him, Richard stretches his arms outward and sits up, hugging his father closely.

"You got school today kid," Mr.Tozier smiles as Richie nods.

At five years old, Richard Tozier is a quiet kid. Even if he is quiet, he is quite hyper. He jumps up and down, always ecstatic. He smiles all the time, and is eager to make new friends and meet new people. So on his first day of school, he jumps out of bed and heads to his closet.

Richie is an energetic kid. He loves color, so his shirts are all bright and popping. He is taller than the average five year old, so his jeans don't fit exactly how they should. He owns two pairs of converse, a black pair and a white. Then a pair of adidas, which he adores and takes care of as much as possible. He likes how worn his converse are though.

After changing his shirt three times, Richie finally decides on a red button up he has, with a palm tree on the breast pocket. Then he slips on his jeans and looks in the mirror. It's all blurry.

"Stupid glasses," He mumbles, walking to his dresser where they are. He slides them on his nose and looks back at his outfit. His eyebrows knit as he looks at the ends of his jeans. He kneels, folding the ends up just like he saw his mom do many times to her own. They turn out wonky and slanted, but Richie admires his mom and hopes she's proud.

He makes his bed the same way he's seen his mother make it some days, hoping with all of his heart she'll be proud of him. Richie Tozier loves his mother.

He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Granted he doesn't need a stool, he can reach the sink just fine really, but it's an instinct to look for the green stepping stool. When he doesn't find it in its usual spot, he calls for the woman he loves most.

"Mommy! Mommy!" A small Richie Tozier calls, walking into the hallway. When no one answers, he frowns slightly and goes to the kitchen.

There she is, Maggie Tozier, making breakfast for her husband and son. Her head turns slightly and she goes to the sink, rinsing her hands before turning to Richie.

"Mommy where's my stool?" He asks her, going up to her and tugging at her hands so she'll bend to his level.

"Richie, sweetheart, you don't need the stool. You're a big boy, right?" She smiles at him and he frowns.

"But Mommy I like my stool."

"And I like my high heels, but I really don't need them."

"Okay..." He frowns and looks down to his mother's feet.

"Oh honey, what did you try to do?" She says, fixing the cuffs on his jeans.

"I wanted to match with you Mommy," He smiles as she looks back up from his feet.

"Go brush your teeth, Richie," She kisses his forehead and roughs up his hair.

"I love you Mommy," Richie hugs his mother.

"I love you too."

Fifteen minutes later Richie stands looking in the mirror of his mother's bathroom to see two blurry figures. Well, the blurred figure of his head and the blurred figure of his mother.

"Mommy I can't see," He whines as she runs gel through his hair.

"I know, Richie. I can't do your hair with your glasses on," She sighs.

"Why is my hair so flat?"

"It's slicked back so it doesn't get in your way. See?" She hands him his glasses and he pushes them up the bridge of his nose.