little man

oh, jools. i didn’t know if i could manage a day home with you today. BC was home from school on thursday and friday. then, everyone was home saturday, sunday, and monday. considering tomorrow is half-day elementary school and i’m pretty pushed thursday and friday, if i didn’t get a day to myself today, i wouldn’t get one until far into next week.

and i didn’t.

you stayed with me today after waking up at 6 (screaming, per usual, there’s a six on the clock!!! only to then fall back asleep after i woke up and came over to collect you.) i figured that if you fell back to sleep, then you were a pretty tired palooka. so my peace and quiet be damned. you stayed.

i’m so glad you did.

we played the lilo and stitch game that your sister usually won’t let you touch (and you gleefully reminded her of that when she came home from school); we played candyland, perennial house game favorite. and may i tell you, little man: you cheat. you cheat like crazy. and even though i tell you i won’t play with you if you don’t play by the rules, somehow, we keep playing. i think we continue because there’s something so fun about watching you giggle when i pick the plumpy card for the seventeenth time in the row, just before i would have won the game.  like you know, somewhere deep down in your little soul, that G-d really wants to see you win and see mama get screwed just one more time.  and i laugh and laugh each time because i want you to see that sometimes, it’s the journey — not the journey’s end — that really matters.

and what a silly day. we took all of BC’s broken crayons, put them into metal cupcake holders, and melted them into giant rainbow crayons. i always read about this and thought it would be fun. somehow, i never did this with BC because i hadn’t amassed that many broken crayons. but you, my friend, you are the second child. so much has been broken before you. i’m the youngest; i know of these things. the trick, my love, is to take the broken stuff and figure out how to make something wonderful out of them.

i’ve done it for years.

today, i told you that i was going to run errands to the post office and the store while you were at gymnastics. usually, i sit at the back and get a precious 45 minutes of novel writing while you tumble. but this time, i had stuff to do. you nodded and understood. and when i came to collect you, you sweetly informed me: mama, i missed you while you were running errands. but you were okay, right, little man? oh yes, mama. things that would make your sister cry her heart out are things that you accept with a zen-like grace.

just the same way we snuggle at night. BC curls into me, trying her best to meld into my body, childlike. but you, little man. you put your arm around me, just like your father does. you pull me to you, curling me into your side. protecting me.

you are my child, but at moments like these, amidst the cars and teddy bears, i already see the man emerging.

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6 Responses to “little man”

  1. Aw. And mothers of sons everywhere weep silently into their coffee.

    “Plumpy effed”: HA! Good to learn a new curse word to use in front of the kids. “Wow, I really got plumpied there.”

  2. What a fantastic, moving post. Thanks.

  3. aw, thanks. but it’s all down to the dude 🙂

    and as for plumpyeffed, yep — i fell over when i read that one. i feel it’s so important to expand my cursing vocabulary. hopefully, eventually, my kids won’t know what i’m talking about. i gotta keep one step ahead of them in the bad words department 😉

  4. nylonthread Says:

    Jools has such an awesome mom (and dad!). It’s no wonder that he’s turning into such a wonderful, well-adjusted, playful boy.

    I love this post, Wreke. I am with Kelly and Jill on the weeping and the moving, but it also has rhythm.

  5. thanks :)))))) sometimes, my kids just move me to tears. i’m grateful when they’re happy ones 😉

  6. notdancingqueen Says:

    Dammit Sheryl, I am crying now.

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