I was looking at this
and I was worried to death about that little furrow in his brow, which he had continuously. Against everything I knew to be medically true, I was worried that my horribly stressful pregnancy had caused me to birth a perpetually worried, anxious, unhappy baby.
Turns out he was just worried when the dinners were going to fill his belly.
The frown would disappear soon after he realized that he wasn’t going to starve to death and he became this smiling, laughing little creature.
Good gracious, I spent hours holding that baby…and not only just because he was always eating eating eating, but because I could. There was nothing that was more important to me than holding that baby. He was the first baby I ever had that I had that luxury. With the girls, there was always something I had to clean or wash or an errand or dishes or dinner to fix and I didn’t get to fully revel in them the way I should have. Also, I was older when I had the boy, just a few months shy of 35 and had been a parent for 15 years, so was more given to contributing to the butt crater on the couch than cleaning the baseboards. Also, I had a husband who also felt it was more important to hold a baby than clean.
I am so hugely grateful for the long, lazy days I got to spend with him when he was little. He was forever being fiddled with by his sisters and spent hours watching them…learning them…
and playing in boxes with them…
Having older sisters, older enough that there was never any tormenting and mostly only fussing over, made him sweet. You would be hard pressed to get me to recall a time when he was ornery really, but again, I attribute that mostly to the fact that I was so laid back and our house was so laid back…or it may just be that these past 13 years have softened the edges of the memories where he was a terroristic 2-year-old coloring all the windowsills with Sharpie markers.
Mostly, I remember him spending a lot of time reading.
Which he still does, only now it is facebook and gaming forums because now he is 13. A teenager.
There are times I still wonder what in the world do I do with this boy. Teenaged girls I am familiar with. I have never had a teenage boy. Sometimes my brain goes into panic mode thinking how ill prepared I am to deal with what is headed my direction in these next 5 years or so. He is still amazingly funny, with a sense of humor that is very much like mine, he loves words, and he loves to make like he is very cooooooool and must maintain the utmost control of his composure…so often, when I take his picture these days, this is what I get
but I can still make him do this
so, happy birthday, Mr. Cool. I’m glad I can still make you laugh.
