Sunday, June 17, 2007
Please Slow Down
Max is 5 going on 25. His thoughts often turn now to adult concerns like moving into his first house (he'll feel a little happy and a little sad), traveling the world (how soon can he start), whom he's going to marry (no one until he's lived on his own for a long time), and what car he's going to drive (a "fresh grass" green VW bug convertible).
To my great relief, he will occasionally regress. This weekend we were socked in with torrential rains. As we like to say at the ranch, there's no such thing as a bad rain in June. The lake is replenished. The hay meadows get a much-needed drink after the first cut. The summer swelter is mitigated about 20 degrees. And waking to the sound of raindrops tapdancing on the metal roof is the definition of bliss.
Rain also changes the rhythm of our life at the ranch. In place of swimming and riding and going on off-road adventures, we draw and play card games and make ice water footprints on the porch.
Saturday afternoon, Max climbed onto my lap. I scooped him up sideways, like when he was an infant. He started giggling.
"Max, isn't it amazing that I used to carry you around like this when you were a baby, and now you're already 5 years old?"
"Yeah!"
"You know what's even more amazing? In 5 more years, you'll be 10, and you'll barely fit in my lap!"
More giggling.
"And 5 years after that, you'll be 15, and you'll be bigger than me, and I'll be able to sit in your lap!"
Max was clearly delighted at this idea. He squirmed out of my lap and ran upstairs to finish some important growing up business.
Boo had been hovering nearby. He approached me, face buckling with distress, and planted his forehead on my thigh.
"I'm so sad, mommy," he wailed.
"Oh, honey, why?"
"I don't know!" Tears coursed down his velvet cheeks.
But I had a suspicion.
"Sweetie, are you sad about the idea of growing up?"
"Yeah!"
"What makes you sad about that, Boo?"
"Because then I won't be a kid any more!" He continued to come undone.
I tried to put up a brave front, say the right things, comfort Boo and assure him that he still had lots of time to be a kid, but the truth is, I don't know which of us was more devastated at that thought.
To my great relief, he will occasionally regress. This weekend we were socked in with torrential rains. As we like to say at the ranch, there's no such thing as a bad rain in June. The lake is replenished. The hay meadows get a much-needed drink after the first cut. The summer swelter is mitigated about 20 degrees. And waking to the sound of raindrops tapdancing on the metal roof is the definition of bliss.
Rain also changes the rhythm of our life at the ranch. In place of swimming and riding and going on off-road adventures, we draw and play card games and make ice water footprints on the porch.
Saturday afternoon, Max climbed onto my lap. I scooped him up sideways, like when he was an infant. He started giggling.
"Max, isn't it amazing that I used to carry you around like this when you were a baby, and now you're already 5 years old?"
"Yeah!"
"You know what's even more amazing? In 5 more years, you'll be 10, and you'll barely fit in my lap!"
More giggling.
"And 5 years after that, you'll be 15, and you'll be bigger than me, and I'll be able to sit in your lap!"
Max was clearly delighted at this idea. He squirmed out of my lap and ran upstairs to finish some important growing up business.
Boo had been hovering nearby. He approached me, face buckling with distress, and planted his forehead on my thigh.
"I'm so sad, mommy," he wailed.
"Oh, honey, why?"
"I don't know!" Tears coursed down his velvet cheeks.
But I had a suspicion.
"Sweetie, are you sad about the idea of growing up?"
"Yeah!"
"What makes you sad about that, Boo?"
"Because then I won't be a kid any more!" He continued to come undone.
I tried to put up a brave front, say the right things, comfort Boo and assure him that he still had lots of time to be a kid, but the truth is, I don't know which of us was more devastated at that thought.
1 Comments:
Once again you have caught the essence of the differences between Max and Reed. They truly are yin and yang. Mom
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