Monday, June 29, 2020

Almost three

Dear Mac,

Oh, my little Mac. You are everything a little baby-of-the-family boy should be.

You are so much, packed into a strong, tough little body. You are resistant, defiant, insistent, persistent.

At a graduation party on Saturday, I took you to the bathroom (by force, of course). You couldn't wait to get back outside to jump on the "tramp-o-leen, the tramp-o-leen, the tramp-o-leen!" When we got back outside, there were six bog boys William's size bouncing around with a soccer ball on a trampoline with no net. "Oh, buddy, the big boys are on there now," I told you. "You'll have to wait a bit."

You turned to me. "I'm BIG."

"I know you're big, but you need to wait."

"MOM. I'm big!"

I picked you up. Maybe some TLC would help. "Mackey, you ARE big. But you need to wait a few minutes."

You hollered at the top of your lungs, "MOM! I'm BIG!!!"

Firm resolve is often required with you. "Well, the answer is no."

You stood obediently (but not happily) on the ladder and waited for your opportunity. As soon as one or two of the boys hopped off, you climbed on. You were bounced and jostled and dirty and sweaty, yet completely undeterred. You were one of the big boys and there was no one who could tell you otherwise.

A few weeks ago, we hosted Kole (William and Barrett's friend). The big kids woke up so early, excited to play. You rolled right out of bed too, and it was immediately apparent that you needed a LOT more sleep. You were sobbing at every provocation. I gave you a few chances to pull it together, but you just couldn't. "You've got to go back to sleep, Mac."

You lost it completely. I carried you to your bed, tucked you in, and said, "You're not being a bad boy. You just need more sleep. Mommy's not mad at you."

Your eyes were already closing as you wailed, "I'm mad at you!" You popped your thumb into your mouth and were sleeping in moments. I couldn't help but laugh.

Last night, we sang happy birthday to you. This was YOUR MOMENT. You'd been waiting for this endlessly, patiently witnessing everyone else blow out their candles on their birthdays. You sang the song with everyone: "Happy birthday to me." After you blew out the candles, you dramatically pulled each one out and licked the frosting off, savoring each second of the spotlight.

Mackey, you go for what you want. You're the only kid who will randomly approach me to ask for candy. When have I ever given you the impression that I'll just hand you candy? But you ask, and you ask often, and you're always genuinely upset when I say no (as I always do).

You run with the big kids, jump with the big kids, laugh at their jokes, watch their movies. You've stopped asking to watch "baby songs," because I think you've realized that the big boys don't find them cool. This makes me sad, but I know you're still my baby. I know it when you wrap your arms around my neck in a strong, perfect little hug. I know it when I lay next to you and you snuggle into my arm and suck your thumb and your eyelids instantly grow heavy. I know it when you scream with delight at a firefly or a new-to-you, hand-me-down pair of shark pajamas. I know it when you mispronounce your D's as N's. ("Danny" for Daddy, "bi-ner" for spider, "burn" for bird.)

I am trying to be careful to not let you become a perfect storm - the tenacious little baby boy whose mother indulged him. I hold the line with you, but I've also probably drawn it farther back than I ever did with William. How can I not? You are somehow always the infant I cuddled on those hot summer days three years ago, and you always will be.

"I'm NOT a baby!"

You are perfect.

1 comment:

  1. What a privilege, honor and joy it was to be there at your birth, Mac! That was one of the most amazing days of my life.

    I’m so glad you are still using this blog, Maegan, what precious thoughts about fleeting days, what a blessing to have them! Tomorrow he will be Williams age. Seems like William was just his age. Soak them up as you are, but you have much to look forward too! I love you all