Can I comb your hair, Mom?

I was playing with my son last night in his room.  We were on the floor and in usual boy fashion he was banging, pounding, and playing.  Abruptly, he ran from the room, and returned holding a comb. 
"Dis?"  he said to me.
I said, "It's a comb." 
He walked up closely to me, and began combing my hair.  I melted into a puddle.  He combed my hair for several moments and ran out of the room, returning again with a brush.
"Dis?"  he asked.
"It's a brush."  I said.  He starts the same process of brushing my hair.  Then he alternated, some with the comb, some with the brush.  So terribly sweet.