Background information necessary for this post: C2 is loud. He has no volume control, just on or off. And off is only when he's asleep. I'm okay with it--he's a boy. My boy. Other people are not. He's not their boy. Obviously.
On with the post:
Today, R2 and C2 went to a birthday party at a gymnastics/tumbling studio. Every child's dream: jump and bounce and roll to your heart's content! The party referees were also teachers at the gym, so they had the kids engaged in all sorts of fun gymnast games.
After a while I left to run an errand. Upon my return, I noticed all the kids seated together on giant foam steps above a huge pit full of spongy blocks, and a rope dangling over the pit. As I walked through the door, C2 yelled to me in his loudest voice: "Mom! We're going to swing on a rope! Watch!" I smiled and nodded in acknowledgment, and then flippantly commented to the other parents (who were well aware of him by now), "That's my boy!"
A little while later it sank in that he wanted me to know what he was so excited about. Me. His mom. The one to whom he brings flowers and sticks and rocks and trash that is his treasure and, sometimes, worms. I'm still the center of his universe every now and again. I never know when the next time will be, nor how long it will last. I better bask in each of these moments while I still have them.
1 comment:
Sometimes it is our most boisterous boys who love us so intensely. A good thing. :)
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