Be still my heart

While I was hunting for that video of Thumper reading Little Blue Truck, I found another gem. It’s from the same summer, but before his birthday, and oh, my stars, is it adorable:

I miss those chubby baby cheeks and the innocence in his voice. It’s crazy how much things change, but you don’t really  notice till you see something old like this.

Also, it can’t be possible that he’ll be six in a couple of months. This was just yesterday, I swear.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

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Kids say the darndest things

IMG_20160615_195025Seymour: “Okay, Cricket, time to get ready for bed.”

Cricket: *instant tears*

Seymour: “What’s the matter, buddy?”

Cricket: “Now I don’t get to do chores!”

My sweet little Cricket came home from CCD the other night with a collection box. Apparently they’re collecting money to buy rice for those less fortunate, and he is so excited to help. He told Seymour on the way home from church that he needed fifteen dollars, expecting Seymour to just hand it over, from the sounds of it. Seymour told him he could earn some money by doing chores, so he came home all excited to help Bubbles do the dishes.

And then the world ended when he didn’t get to stay up past bedtime to help.

This isn’t the first time Cricket’s been so gung-ho about helping others in need. When a local family lost literally everything but the clothes on their backs the day after Christmas, he was all set to donate half the things in his room (whether they were his to donate or not). And when I told him that they probably didn’t need his old copies of Ranger Rick as much as they needed clothes to wear and that his were either too small or too big to give them, he decided that his classroom  at school might want them.

The older I get, the less sure I am that I have this whole parenting thing down. But for my six-year-old to have a heart this big, I must be doing something right.

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

A letter to my son

Today, I send my darling baby boy out into the big, wide world. Next year his little brother, Thumper, will follow him, but I don’t want to think about that just yet. For now, I’m just trying to get through today…

Dearest Cricket,

I cannot believe you’re starting kindergarten today. It seems like only yesterday that we brought you home from the hospital, home to the proudest big brother and sister this family has ever seen. It seems like only yesterday that you started walking, started talking, started sleeping through the night.

It seems like only yesterday, but of course, it wasn’t.

IMG_20160823_101931

It was six years, one month, and twenty-six days ago. Hardly yesterday, and yet it doesn’t seem like it was so very long ago. How the time flies!

You looked so grown up this morning as you headed out the door in your new school clothes. Your rockin’ Ninja Turtle backpack looked almost as big as you as we walked down the driveway to meet the bus, and your hand in mine felt so very small.

But I know you’ll be fine. You’re in good hands. You have a fantastic teacher and a wonderful school, and I know you’ll have fun. I know you’ll talk my ear off when I pick you up tonight. I hope you’ll stay excited about school, because today is the first of many first days for you, my boy, and I hope they’ll all be as much fun as this day. I hope you’ll make lots of new friends, the kind that will stay with you for thick and thin through the rest of your life.

Most of all, I hope you’ll never forget that no matter how old you are, you will always be my little Cricket. I love you, buddy.

Love,

Mommy

How did you handle your kids leaving for school?

(c) 2016. All rights reserved.

A letter to my son

Today’s Writing 101 challenge was to reinvent the letter.  The last letter I wrote was to my husband when he was away for work, so today I decided to write a letter to my son in the future.  He may not be a man yet, but he will be one day, and I hope that, on that day, he’ll read this and smile.

leiabowsDearest Bubbles,

My goodness, how quickly you’ve grown!  It can’t be possible that you’re a man now, instead of the tiny little baby I brought home from the hospital.  Surely that was only yesterday?

Oh, who am I kidding?  It was last month.  I knew I should have tied that brick to your head sooner. 🙂

When I look at you, I still see the happy little boy you used to be.  I suppose I probably always will, no matter how much taller than me you are.  I hope that someday, you’ll have a house full of happy little boys (and girls?) of your own, but first, some advice:

I feel lucky

dandyAll kids drive their parents crazy, some more than others. Take Thumper, for instance. He’s my baby, the youngest of my four children, and the reason I can’t have nice things. He’s the reason I started sprouting gray hair before I hit thirty, the reason I’m sick of my own name, and the probable cause for any alcoholism his daycare teachers may suffer from.

But you know what? He’s perfect. He may be stubborn to a fault and have more energy than any one person should ever have, but he’s also the happiest four-year-old I’ve ever met. He has such a good heart, even when he’s feeling ornery, and he’s so stinkin’ adorable that I can never stay mad at him for long. I am lucky to be his mother.

For the record, I am lucky to be mother (and stepmother) to three other pretty fantastic kids, too. But I feel especially lucky to be Thumper’s mother, because I almost wasn’t, a fact I was reminded of last night.

We’ve been having…