I remember a time when my eldest would happily count from 1 - 12 in Spanish at the top of his lungs from his seat in the Target shopping cart. Shoppers would grin at him and his bouncing white-blond curls as he purposely "forgot" to include "cuatro" between "tres" and "cinco", simply so that he could pretend to have lost the number four. I have many a memory of him shouting "Cuatro?!? CUAAAATRO!!! Where are you, Cuatro?!?"
Today, he is a baritone teenager who towers over my head and knows everything about every single gaming or computer system in existence but couldn't count to 5 in Spanish to save his life. "Squat down!" I scold him as I pull on his long and brown curls, "I can't see the top of your head to check your shampooing skills."
I remember a time when my middle son would win over every crowd with his enormous brown eyes and perfect little face. Always a smile and a hug for even strangers, he was the baby to bring to a party. Want to feel good about yourself? Hold this baby for 10 minutes.
Today, he is 10 and lanky and still adorable in that way that lanky 10 year old boys are. Elbows and knees and feet are growing faster than seems possible. And for as awkward as his growing body is, he still has that smile and hug for strangers; though he tends to follow the smile with a mischievous, sarcastic remark or joke that will either have you busting out laughing or shocked at what has just come out of his seemingly innocent mouth.
I remember a time when my baby girl was actually a baby; curled perfectly into body and arms in her rocking chair, I'd weep as I sang "Silver Bells" with her on countless winter nights. Her ridiculously young toddler voice would lisp the lyrics of both verses... She has always had an astounding ability to remember lyrics.
Today, she is a stunning, athletic 6 year old who prefers singing the incredibly inappropriate lyrics to that annoying LMFAO song. Thankfully, she can still "kind of" fit into my lap where I desperately kiss her cheeks, smell her hair, and attempt to memorize this current stage before it, too, fades into a mere memory...
Someday, I'll remember a time when my children were 13, 10 and 6. I'll remember the craziness, the fights, the laughter, the struggles... It will all be a memory, someday.
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Poetry Month in our Homeschool
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Sure, you *can *force a kid to read a book. Any book, actually. But you
*can't* force a child to love to read. You can't push and push literature
on them a...
11 years ago
3 comments:
Hey, stop making me sad right before I walk out the door to work. Not nice.
Yes, I remember those moments too. And I try to take a lot of pictures so that I don't forget.
m.
I was looking for a water bottle in the car this morning and going under the seat and found some photos that must have fallen out of my wallet, including one of my 11 year old at age 2 standing under the cherry blossoms in a pair of red silk Chinese pants he loved. Sigh.
BTW, our girls are the same age and my boy is sandwiched between yours.
I think this would have made my cry if it was posted in, say October, but the high temps and strong teen attitudes are bringing me down. Some days it's hard to remember how sweet they once were. Maybe they'll get there again.
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