A few weeks ago, after a late night feeding when I found myself regrettably wide awake, I began composing letters in my head to each of my children. I took advantage of the peace and quiet to take a step back and see my kids from the outside, from the "I can enjoy the little moments and see how special you are without thinking about all the things I'm trying to teach you as you grow" sort of view. I suppose that is the grandparent perspective.
So here it is (at least some parts. Not EVERYTHING that passes through my head is for public consumption!).
Dear Scotty,
Sometimes I see you running around the house and I realize my gerber baby is in full kid mode, complete with karate chop action. You run, jump, and climb on everything. I'll try to do more playing and less telling you to tone it down or just sit still. I'll watch when you say: "mama, look how high I can jump! I can jump all the way from the couch to this tile!" instead of cringing about all the ways I imagine you hurting yourself or breaking something while you hurtle through the air.
I'm amazed by your ability to remember small details and conversations we have. When you see a friend you remember exactly where and when you last played with them--even if it's been months. When you ask me groggily in the middle of the night if we can go to the zoo next Thursday, I have to think twice before I agree because I KNOW no matter how dazed you appear, you will store that bit of information and hold me to it!
You have a natural knack for math and numbers. You used to count from 29 to 2010. Yesterday, instead of singing to yourself while you were helping me clean, you counted to 59. I'm not sure when you realized your mistake or how you corrected it; I just know I miss getting to 2012 using your (much faster!) counting strategy. You constantly ask me questions like "what's 3 + 3 + 4?" and quickly answer them yourself. I take no credit for your apparent math knowledge except for possibly genetics. Can a kid be born knowing how to do math?
I love seeing you put your mind to something and working to achieve it. I often lament that you would rather ask for help than figure something out yourself, but you are starting to see how much you can accomplish by practicing. I credit your music class for that, and for bringing out the music in you. You were never the baby that cooed along with me, or the toddler that walked around the house singing, or even the kid that sang out loud in primary. When you sit at the piano, you finally seem comfortable enough to express yourself musically and it makes my musical heart sing! I'm so glad that at the end of the day, especially our hard days, I can sit by you at the piano and play our little duet.
Most of all, I love all of our talks. Yes, we are ALWAYS talking, but I try to imagine all of the times in the next 15 years where you won't want to talk to me and it makes me cherish your chattiness. You also have a knack for saying the best things. While watching a presidential debate this election season, you surprised both your dad and I by knowing the names of both the candidates. Your fact checking was followed by this gem of an observation: "Why is Obama even trying? He already had a turn! Doesn't he know that you have to share?" Out of the mouths of babes...
I am so glad I got you, my Scotty, with all of your love and personality.
Love,
Mama
0 thoughts:
Post a Comment