Child of my Child

Child of my child..... you bring about a flood of wonderful memories. For when I look into your eyes, the deep brown eyes of your mother are reflected back to me. You are her child.... you have her eyes.... you have her logical sense of reasoning.... and when you throw your arms around my neck in a hug, I remember the childhood hugs of your mother. You remind me that these times are precious. All time is precious. That each moment is priceless. 

We played some wicked games of Cootie!

The past 9 days have been filled with more laughter than I ever imagined. The rooms of my home are strewn with tiny shoes and socks turned inside out in little balls of fabric. Hot Wheels cars and monster trucks have raced and crashed on the coffee table where they keep company with my fall decorations. And a variety of games are stacked in the corner of the living room. Thinking back on the events of your stay makes me smile.

You taught me how to duel with empty Sprite bottles...... swords in your imagination. We fought fiercely for bragging rights and candy corn. You twirled about in seemingly random ninja moves. And we laughed hard as you disarmed me and threw your arms up into the air, yelling, "I win!"

A finished game of Blokus!

We played Triominos, Count Your Chickens, Cootie, and Connect Four. I loved watching you think through the process of placing the playing piece in the game of Blokus. Your little fingers would turn and rotate the irregularly shaped pieces until you found a place where it fit. And again, you would throw your hands up in the air and cheer. You were proud of yourself....I was proud of you.

You love to play Rock, Paper, Scissors and your eyes sparkled as we pound our fists into our open palms. We play to determine who gets the first turn in the games we play. I had an advantage because you haven't quite mastered making the symbol for scissors and your tiny hands repeatedly made the shape of paper or rock. But I continued to shape my hand for rock or paper, only forming the shape of scissors occasionally. When your "paper" covered my "rock" you would put your hand over mine and squeal with excitement at "going first" in whatever game we were playing.

Loving on Sophie!

You are kind and tender-hearted. You get excited when the cats lay on your lap or jump up next to you on the couch. You have learned to gently smooth their coats with your little hands and to remain calm when they are around. They have come to love you.
You make friends with everyone..... the staff at my workplace, the kids at the new Mother's Day Out, children at the dinosaur museum. (That is a trait of your father.) I hope you never lose that desire to connect with others.

Child of my child.....You raced me everywhere we went. Yes.... everywhere. To the pickup.... to the front door.... to the kitchen.... to the bedroom.... to the bathroom.... to the barn.....EVERYWHERE!!!!

I listened to hours of Disney Silly Songs over the past 9 days. But I fully realize that one day you will climb into my vehicle and not ask to listen to The Pizza Song. And that will be a very sad day. So we listen and sing along to The Pizza Song, I'm My Own Grandpa, The Peanut Song, and many others. I add emphasis to the silliness of the lyrics with my own exaggerations of voice and gestures. You laugh....I laugh..... we laugh. I never want that to stop.

Volunteering for the dinosaur program.

I love your imagination and creativity! After all, you invented the Gingerbread Man and Old Woman game. I couldn't help but laugh as you and I swapped roles. One of us would be the Gingerbread Man and run away through the house. The other would be the Old Woman and come chasing after. We added little bits and pieces over time. A cane for the Old Woman and specific actions for the Gingerbread Man. It was a wonderful way to spend a morning.

You are fiercely independent, yet so vulnerable that it breaks my heart. You march off to "your room" to take a nap without any assistance from me. You are a follower of rules, just like your mother. You keep everyone in line. You even informed me that certain movies for children are for kids six and a half years old or older. (They really aren't.) You wouldn't let me rent those movies.

One evening you asked me if I had ever gone to Paris. (The characters in the TV show were in Paris.) I said I had never been to Paris, but I would love to go someday. I asked you if you wanted to go to Paris and you said, "Yes", then added that we should go the day after tomorrow. When I asked if you had a passport, you said, "I don't think so, but I think my Daddy does." We agreed we would go to Paris someday, but probably not the day after tomorrow.

As I held you one afternoon, you slept deeply, cradled against me. Your little legs spilled beyond my lap and I watched as your long, dark eyelashes fluttered against your blushed cheeks. I had seen similar lashes against similar skin many years ago. The thought made me catch my breath. Where have the years gone?

 Child of my child...... you have no idea how my heart leaps when you throw your arms around my neck and say, "I wub you!" Yesterday, as we were eating lunch, you said something quite perceptive. You nonchalantly stated, "Nana, you are going to miss me a lot when I go home." Yes, Jaxon, you are correct.