Yesterday Nathan and I were headed down the stairs to do some laundry. The downstairs light wasn't on but he wasn't too upset about that. He was busily trying to work his way down the stairs by himself when the dryer made an end of the cycle bing. Nathan looked at me worriedly and I said "It's ok, it's just the dryer." Then he held his arms out to me with the worried look on his face. As I picked him up, he clung to me like a monkey. I took him downstairs and showed him it was just the dryer and he was fine. It was just one moment of needing some reassurement. Just two seconds earlier he had been batting away my hands trying to help him down the stairs. That noise was pretty scary when you didn't know what it was but in mommy's arms it will be ok. The more and more independent he gets, the more I appreciate those moments when I can reassure him.
I was listening to NPR this morning on the way into work and they were interviewing a mother who lives near the west bank in Israel. She was talking about how she thinks the daily bombings are psychologically hurting her 6 year old son who can now tell the difference between incoming and outgoing bombs. If only there could be somewhere that poor child and all the other children living in constant fear could be reassured and feel safe. We are very lucky to live in a place relatively untouched by daily warfare.
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You know, each year as my nephews celebrate a birthday, I pray that time will just stop and they'll be the same age forever. When the oldest, turned 4 I thought there was no way it could beat 3. When he turned 5, I knew there was no way it could top 4.
But the strange thing about watching kid's grow up is that no matter what age they are, it's the perfect age. Isaac just turned 6 and I worried that he'd start to not like me or want to cuddle with me, but a few weeks ago he sat on the couch and read me "Just Go To Bed" by Mercer Mayer. His brother, now 8 (which, I admit, has been a trying age) was just promoted to a higher level on his swimming team. Somehow they've grown from these little babies that were totally helpless to wonderful kids with distict personalities, speach patterns and hobbies.
I dread the day when they're teenagers, but based on my experience thus far, I'm becoming more optimistic. Watching them grow into young men should be the next great adventure.
(Crap. I made myself cry.)
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