The Good News

Here’s the good news: I love my son.

I picked him up from "school" this afternoon and we came home and did a new (to him, was mine when I was little) puzzle, had some dinner, colored a bit, and then went out for an epic bike-ride/playground-romp/rock-throwing-hike until he was juuuussst past too tired and started misbehaving. (He had to sit in an improvised "naughty spot" in our neighborhood’s gazebo on account of "not listening to Mommy’s words." Of course, once we were home, sitting in the naughty spot was all he seemed to remember of the evening. Fail?)

He is incredible. Twenty-three months and so freaking smart it blows my mind. And ABLE. He is suddenly not so… I don’t know how to say it exactly… I guess it’s just that infants are terrifying in general and young toddlers stress you out with their wobbling etc. and now, all of a sudden, M is a full-blown CHILD that can climb all over the toddler play structure without my hovering and helicopter mom-ing and breaking into a nervous sweat all the time. I love it.

And he just gets stuff, you know? Last night I asked him, "Who do you love?" And he patted me and said, "Mama," then "Jiddah," (my mom) "Kuwa," (my dad) and then, after some thought, "Raisins." All the important stuff, really 😉

The child saves me from myself. That’s not his job, but… it is what it is.