My Boy

This boy has been blowing me away lately. Aside from the general cuteness, the blond curly hair (blond by my family's standards, at least), the singing, the laughing, the way he mispronounces things (we put on "sunscream" and go shopping at "Old Maybe"). Until a few months ago, he was the baby. Everything he did was viewed, evaluated and analyzed within the context of his older sister and when and how she did those things. Or in the case of the monumental messes he makes, the fact that she never did. Then the little guy came along and he became The Middle Child. And as much as it kills me to ever try to put a lid on his exuberance and joy, sometimes the baby really does need to take a nap.

But recently it's becoming more and more apparent that this boy is bright and smart and perceptive in his own right. He pays attention when you read to him. He listens, observes, and draws his own conclusions. Last week at lunch he had a couple of tortilla chips. He asked for "3 more to make 5." I was blown away. Math? Him? Really? Maybe he's been counting his Thomas trains while I wasn't paying attention. Then last night while we were reading a book I told him that M-O-O spells Moo (having already mastered English, I thought we could move on to Cow). He agreed wholeheartedly and added that Z-O-O spells "zoo." He kindly pointed it out to me on the page. What? How did he know? So I added that two O's together sound like "oo." Again, he agreed. "Yeah," he said, "like 'food.'" I had to pick my jaw off the floor after that one. How does he know these things? It's not like his harried mother has actually sat down and taught him. Today, when I asked him what M-O-O spells, he happily and confidently responded "Zoo!" So he's not ready for kindergarten yet. That's ok.

But, as any mom of a toddler will tell you, superior brain power really isn't the most important for our little darlings at this age. We take for granted that they'll eventually learn to read and write and add and all that school stuff. What we really get worked up about is their keeping their little tushies dry and learning to use the potty. I was starting to despair of this ever happening with my boy and was resigned to months more of disgusting diapers. With the looming deadline of the start of preschool starting at us, some of us moms were even starting to devise secret strategies of sneaking our kids in class wearing Pull-ups and putting the fear of God into them about daring to poop during school. But today, he did it. After months of bribes and cajoling and threatening and encouraging, he not only stayed dry most of the day but he POOPED IN THE POTTY!!!!!!!!!!!! Much celebrating ensued. An urgent call was placed to Daddy and Big Sister. Tomorrow the Grandmothers will be notified and, sadly, they will be forced to find something new to lose sleep over. The best part was watching how proud he was of himself, knowing that he did it when he always thought he didn't know how. Way to go, little dude.

So here he is with his M&M stained face (apparently they melt on your face, not in your mouth), rosy cheeks, chipped tooth, and big scab from a recent run-in with the pavement. He wears his joy not just in his smile but in his eyes. Always has. He's the boy I never knew I wanted, the one who, by all rights, should never have been born. He's the light of my life and the laughter of my days. And today, he's a Toileteer.