Tidbits from the past

I found this post in my drafts folder: from nearly two years ago. It's a good remembery, and I realize my mom is right - I need to write all this stuff down. Because I didn't remember this at all, and Ruby is even wackier than Tim was...

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(July 2013)

Now that we seem to be in the "winter" of the tantrum lifecycle, I'm able to sit back and enjoy some of the zaniness that Four Years Old has to offer.

For example.

Tim is running around with a blanket tied around his neck and flowing over his shoulders and down his back: he is a Superhero. He asks if there is anything I need help with (because Superheroes help people, don't you know.) He helps do a little sweeping, then I ask him what he'd like his Superhero name to be. He pauses to think.

"Kevin," he says, finally.

"What about a real superhero name, you know, like Mighty T or something like that?" I counter.

"No, I want it to be Kevin." And off he flies.

And then, he's rocker dude, sporting a shiny guitar, making up a hardcore tune to "It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring..." And then he decides that the really rock'n'roll thing to do would be to put on some mascara. Only, he can't exactly remember what it's called, so he asks if he can have "those eyelashes that aren't really eyelashes, but go on your eyes?" (Only it's extra cute because he pronounces it "eyelasses".) After some hesitation, I acquiesce, and he's surprisingly calm about holding his eyes still and open while I apply the makeup. Then Tim smiles winningly at me, opens his eyes extra wide and asks:

"Am I beautiful now?" (I assure him that he was already beautiful, before the mascara.)

Daily miracle (one of many)

I put my son on the school bus this morning, and as he waved happily from the window I was struck by no small amount of amazement: I can send my small, precious boy out into the world confident that he would return to me, many hours later, safe and happy. From my driveway to the very large school bus, into the school, through the many rooms and activities of the day, interacting with several adults and many other children, back onto the bus… There are so many people and actions that work together throughout each day that are designed and dedicated to keeping MY child safe and happy. And I don’t have to worry. It’s practically a miracle.

We are so lucky. To live in a community that can make this happen. That WANTS to make this happen. The policy-makers, administrators, teachers, educational assistants, volunteers, other parents, other kids… everyone around me is so invested in my child’s safety and contentment. It’s so simple, it’s been happening for so long – so many generations of other peoples’ safe and happy kids – I have been completely taking for granted how incredible this is. This seems to me to be the pinnacle of civilization.

(First day of kindergarten, back in September. It's now the dead of winter, so picture a fully-bundled youngster in a red coat and black snow pants, climbing the very tall steps of a big yellow bus...)