Today my oldest kiddo, the girlie's big brother is eight. There will be no birth story, suffice it to say, it was painful and I was unmedicated. Which, scarily enough, I don't regret.
He is a dream come true.
He's witty, goofy and strangely athletic for a wisp of a boy. He's a fresh mouth smart aleck and while I'm not entirely proud of it, he takes after his momma and it'll come in handy some day. He can do word problems in math, which I lose patience with, even at the second grade level.
He says please and thank you on a regular basis. He walks Fred the beagle and asks me if I need any help when I come in with the groceries. He does not like to be the center of attention and avoids interacting with grownups if it can be helped. We play gameboy and read Lemony Snicket together. He loves to fishing and camping and the outdoors, just like his dad.
His too big grownup teeth make me smile.
I am often proud of him, of the boy he is and who he is becoming. And something new here, at least for me, I am proud of myself. For helping him to learn right from wrong, good decisions from bad, taking the high road when it's the tougher one. And it still surprises me, that it's working, that I'm doing it (eh, we're doing it actually but it's my blog so I'm taking the credit :) ) Not perfectly mind you, but in spite of that, it's still working.
And that gift he gives me without knowing it, this pride, it is contentment and calming, an inner smile.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment