It is September 30, 2015 and you're ten years and ninety-nine days old.
I'm frequently overwhelmed when I think of who you are and the characteristics; thoughtful, empathetic, stubborn (it's a good thing, mostly), social, able-to-stand-up-for-yourself-in-a-single-bound, and fiercely independent yet still needing your mom and dad.
The day will come when you think you don't need us.
The day will come when you will not want to crawl in bed between us.
The night will come when you will blow right through your curfew.
The morning will come when you leave, the screen door slamming, and you'll be on your way to work or school or on a trip to the lake with your friends. I can hear it now, "Bye, mom and dad!" and then the crunch of the wheels on gravel and the shifting from first to second, and then third before the drone of the engine edges away.
Today you'll give me resistance when I announce that it's time for us to work on fractions. You'll voice displeasure at having to read the 10 pages in the social studies chapter. You'll more than likely procrastinate with the language arts assignment as well.
Your clothes seldom make their way into the clothes hamper without my squawking. Martha often prompts me with her squeaking to remind you that she needs water, food, hay, and yes - the cage needs to be cleaned out AGAIN. Always!
When I went into your room and saw that you had written on the wall "God's Not Dead" I knew, at that precise moment, that instilling faith in your heart would be one of my gifts of legacy to you.
At McDonald's the other day, because every once in a while it's okay to eat there (?!), you made my heart nearly triple in size when you said, matter-of-factly, "Mom, I think it's time for me to stop getting Happy meals." When I asked why you answered, "Because I get the toy and I never play with it."
You get it. You're getting it. You won't always get it when I think you should, but you'll get it. Whatever IT happens to be.
Then, you capsized me when you saw a little boy and his grandmother going out the door. You looked at the toy in your hand and looked at me. Then you said, "I should give this to him." I said, "Go! It's not too late."
The grandma beamed and said, "He didn't get a toy this time, thank you, young man!" And you smiled. And I beamed with enough light to circumvent the sun AND the moon for an entire rotation.
You get it.You're getting it.
And on the way home from our outing you wanted to listen to The Little Soul and the Sun so we did.
Another thing I love is your sense of rhythm and love of all kinds of music. To hear you "scratch" like a DJ is pretty darn cool. Such a hipster. And you don't even know it.
The concept and inner workings of a radio station is still somewhat unknown to you. Oh, sure, you know that some radio stations play different kinds of music - but what is not clear is that we can't beckon a song to come on as we wish. In the warp-speed of technology it seems foreign that we cannot just push a button and dial up our song. Not unless we pay a monthly subscription, that is. Oh, wait, our car is too old for that.
As it turns out, one of your favorite songs right now is "Day One" by Matthew West. I love the look of surprise and thanks on your face when it does come on the radio when we happen to be in the car. Sweet.
