Perfection

Can I share a little secret with you? I just want to confide a tiny thing, but I don’t want to make a huge deal out of it or anything. No need to be concerned or excited or anything, I just feel the need to share.

Colin is nothing less than perfect.

I know, I know. I hate to admit that, but it’s true. He is the most fun part of my life, the best part of my day, the brightest ray of sunshine in the sky.

Let me give you some examples.

He has learned the basics of tickling. Today, I was lying on the sofa talking to Patrick when he runs over, grinning from ear to ear, lifts the bottom of my shirt, and pinches my belly. Then he looks at me and screams with joy, doubling over from the hilarity of the whole thing. He thinks he has electric bolts that shoot from his fingers, that his mere touch is enough to send someone into peals of laughter. Of course, he thinks that because I catch on quick and now react quickly and hugely to each of his little pinches. So when I laugh and squirm with his pinches, he laughs and falls to the ground with glee and pride. God, it is so fun.

The pendulum has graced me with its presence and Colin finally prefers me. At least he throws himself at my feet when I get home and looks up at me with his giant blue eyes and says, “uuuPPuh!” He smiles at me when he wants something and says, “MaMee! MaMeeee!” like it is the magic word (which it is). I am clearly differentiated from The MaiMai, which, despite my best efforts, is what he calls the Blasted Blanket that he insists upon dragging around everywhere. Occassionally, he will entrust someone else with it. He looks them in the eye and says, “MaiMai” in a very serious voice while handing it over. The person must agree to watch over the damn thing with their every breath so he can be free to ram his trucks into walls.



Above all, I can’t help but notice every second that I spend with him that he is such a kid. Such a little boy. Not at all a baby anymore. He still likes to be snuggled and still sits in a high chair for food, mostly as a precaution for us as we can see the projectiles much better from that height, but Colin is up and playing, running, jumping (well, trying really hard), laughing, questioning, thinking, living before I have even had my coffee. He is so full of life, his sweaty, crazy head of curls a testament to his blossoming spirit, and I just can’t get enough of it.



We have spent as much time as possible outside this summer, and his poor knees are suffering the consequences. He comes inside dirty, having had several falls and/or faceplants throughout the day, and usually scraped up, covered in mosquito bites despite copious bug spraying, and often with something stuck in his hair like a stick or a leaf or, on occasion, a shovel from the sand box. He is hot and tired and red and hungry, but he has had a full day of exploring and learning. Seeing things from his perspective may be the biggest blessing of parenthood. I never noticed these things, but seeing them through his eyes makes the bugs and leaves and bits of trash the treasures that they are in his mind.



The secret that I am trying to share with you is that I have rediscovered the gratitude that I had misplaced. Once again, I feel so honored to have been chosen as Colin’s mother and so fortunate to be able to see him grow up and learn about the world. Did I tell you that he has started giving kisses without prompting? My chest physically tightens every time (and not just because he’s coming at me with all those teeth, though I will admit to being slightly alarmed). In addition to everything else, all the other lessons, he is learning to love. My little boy, with his laughing fits and his tantrums, is learning about love. When I am old and frail and everything else from my life has fallen away, this will be my legacy, my reason for being. Everything else is just background noise.