A Big Deal
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Jared and Beren on Sunset Hill
This evening we took a noisy stroll with Beren in his wagon.
We waddled down the steep slope on our road to what I like to call "Sunset
Hill". Jared and I walked side by side sometimes, sometimes holding hands.
Sometimes I stared at Beren's long, thin legs. His tight fitting tee shirt with
orange sleeves showed how big he'd gotten. He munched on corn chips.
He's so big.
Remember when I had to hide in closets to nurse and not even
that worked because he'd grab everything in the dark? Remember when Jared had
to cral across the room below Beren's eye level so he'd remain focused on
nursing? I thought I'd never rejoin society.
Remember when started to walk? I don't exactly remember his
first steps. I hope Jared does. Early walking days were great days.
Remember when Beren gave up his afternoon nap? In
frustration, Jared tossed Beren's stroller. It broke. That happened when I was
at work. It seemed like such a big deal. Beren didn't like being in a stroller
anyway.
Remember when he first linked one wooden train track to the
next? I do. I remember helping him. I remember trying to assemble them
incorrectly so he could help me. I remember repeating, "Tab goes into the
notch."
Remember when all he said was "MMM mmm Mmm!" and
then "Mouse!" It seemed like such a big deal. Now he says, "I
had a bad day." Why? "Because I coughed. And when I spat out
water."
Remember when we would go to bed until 10:30 pm? I do.
Because he often still does. Remember when it seemed like something was wrong?
It was - we lived in a moldy house. Every minor cold spun out into the croup.
Now we don't - we live in a high and dry house. Now a cold is a cold, just the
common cold. And yet, bedtime is often much later than I'd like. Instead I now
get a cheerful child, our night owl who sleeps well at night because he can
breathe well. It's 10:32 p.m. and Beren's making vehicle with "machine parts" from a
shell and modeling clay.
Remember when something seemed like a big deal? Why? Because
it was. Those early days. They're real, they're rough, but where did they go?