I was in the shower when my little guy woke up this morning with exciting news. As I poked my head around the shower curtain to listen, this is what he had to say.
“Mama I want to tell you two things.
One, I had a big boogie sticking out of my nose and I picked it out of there.
And two, I was coughing and then I burped at the same time. It felt quite good.”
Ahhh, such is life with a little boy. . . I wouldn’t trade it.
I absolutely love it when I catch a glimpse of my child. . . well, not being my child. It sounds harsh, but I bet you mamas know of what I speak. At home my six-year-old son burps at the table and laughs, he ignores instruction on a whim, “please” and” thank you” are apparently optional and an occasional meltdown for no apparent reason is deemed normal. So imagine my delight when his “other self” appears, usually in public, and he becomes the dearest, most considerate, polite and helpful child you have ever seen. What? It’s on these occasions that I realize, contrary to my popular parenting belief, that my child actually is soaking up some of what I say and do. *gasp*
I love to see my little man say “excuse me,” as he makes his way across a crowded room, or say “thank you” when a child shares his toy, and all this without my mama prompts. Nothing warms my heart more than when I see my son befriend the one kid in the room that no one cares to play with — yup, that will usually be my guy. Now that will put a smile on a mother’s face!
Just this week at church dinner, I asked my son to eat more of his chicken casserole, but instead he ate a green bean (and he doesn’t even like green beans). A few minutes later, he whispered in my ear that he didn’t like the casserole because it was too mushy and that he really didn’t want to eat it. Okay, so on the surface it sounded a little shady, but what his young little brain understood was that the lady who made the meal that evening was sitting right on the other side of me and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I was completely touched that he got it! He got the lessons I’ve been pushing for six years, he got the idea of sparing the feelings of others and he got the craft of being subtle. Eureka!
Okay now, this is where it got really weird. Long after he went his way and people were putting away the tables and chairs, my son returned and began folding up chairs (they are as big as he is) and carrying them to the rolling cart. He continued, one at a time, until every last chair was nestled away and he even enjoyed the whole event. Now granted, his favorite playmate wasn’t at church that evening, but still. Honestly, I felt his head for a fever and was slightly surprised when I found none.
So here’s a word of encouragement for you mamas of little ones. Don’t despair; don’t give up. Keep plugging away at those lessons of politeness, caring and social graces. My child has come a long way from blurting out every little thought that pops in his head, and although he isn’t usually on his best behavior at home (and that concept simply just slays me) our words and actions are sinking into their precious little heads — for better or for worse.
photo credit: *¦·twinderella·¦* Believe in Fairies via photopin (license)
Tomorrow my one and only child starts kindergarten. . . and I just don’t know what to say about that. He, on the other hand, has plenty to say. The first words out of his mouth this morning were, “I’m so excited to start kindergarten tomorrow!”
Really? Does he have to be quite so excited about the end of my life as I know it? Okay, so that’s a bit over-dramatic, but kind of true. I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for almost six years now and I have embraced everything that brings, but at 8:40 tomorrow morning everything changes.
Tomorrow I place my eager child into the hands of caring, capable people. I leave my son at a top-rated school to be well educated. I don’t have to pack lunches, I don’t have to write a preschool check, and I don’t have to do much of anything for almost eight straight hours, five days a week, for the next several months. Hmmm. . . maybe I have underestimated the situation.
Seriously, I will miss having my little one under foot, visiting the zoo, museums and other destinations during the weekdays, playing with our mommy club friends and nap time. I’ll miss the every-other-day Playdoh dates, coloring together and train track building, but maybe, just maybe. . . after I polish off a box of tissue tomorrow, I’ll be able to look on the brighter side of public education and embrace my new life as I’ll know it. I mean I’ve already joined the PTA, so I must be on my way!
photo credit: La rentrée via photopin (license)