choosing joy

I’ve been avoiding writing lately because it all sucks. Because I delete every line I write because it’s all worthless. I didn’t know how to put it into words and then I read this post by Wil Wheaton and he said everything perfectly. That’s exactly it, Mr. Crusher.

So now that he said it all for me, moving on.

We sat side by side on the couch beneath the window, his head on my shoulder. A book in my hand, a screen in his. We sat enjoying the peacefulness Thursday evenings bring. Save for two hours in the late afternoon in which supper is made and eaten before the other three fly out the door again, it’s just the two of us at home all day.

I like Thursdays. They remind me of a time ten years in the past when it was just me and a two-year-old facing life together. I sometimes miss the simplicity of those days. I know there were complexities as well, but ten years removes many unhappy memories, leaving only the happy, easy ones.

I don’t know whether Preston is a late-talker or if he’s “normal” and his little friends are just way ahead of the game, but his vocabulary has exploded in the last month or so. He said to me today, “I hit my head,” after he did, in fact, hit his head. He just started using personal pronouns and usually uses my rather than I. It’s not often he uses full, perfectly-pronounced sentences, so that one surprised me.

He was in quiet time when the head-hitting incident happened (it wasn’t hard, he didn’t even cry), and he called, “Mum! Talk me! Me hug! An’ tiss!” He’s doing well with the whole quiet-time-instead-of-nap thing, but requests many hugs and “tisses” throughout the two hours he’s required to be in his room if he’s not going to sleep.

When Noah came home after work, Preston took Noah’s hand and led him to his room to play ball. And then blamed the mess on me when Noah said they had to clean up before they played ball, as there was no room to do so otherwise. It’s Liliana’s responsibility to clean Preston’s room in the evening, so I’m sure she was stoked to be relieved of the chore tonight.

He’s such a funny little dude. He’s taken to reading everything he can see. Not whole words, but letters. When he’s sitting on the can, he won’t get down till he’s done his business and read every letter on my hoodie. (Sorry, bunny hug in the vernacular.) He’ll read signs as we drive by them, cereal boxes, clothing, anything with words or letters. I wonder if he’ll be reading at 3 like Liliana did. He sure loves letters.

He makes my days brighter and I’d be completely lost without him.