Matteo: Today is your last day to be four. I have been thinking a lot about how
to prolong the day, to make it count. I let you dig around in the
spice cupboard for ingredients to add to your increasingly complex
“potions.” I didn’t stop you from filling the sink with water until it
overflowed and made a huge mess on the floor. I even helped you use the
hair dryer to dry the coins you had “washed” from your coin collection,
because I could see that it was important to your four year old self.
Life with you is always fast, but I wish I could slow these memories
down, crystallize their process somehow. Last week, you broke open an
unremarkable looking geode and were thrilled by the sparking crystals
hiding inside. I tried to explain the process, how it happens slowly
over time, but you were already filling the pool with water and excited
about splashing through the mud. Slow is just not in your vocabulary as
you jump, yell, climb, invent and experiment your way through life.
You have always been a rocket, the word we chose a couple years back to
explain how different children have different temperaments. “Some kids
are trees and some are rockets,” I tried to simplify. You still use
this metaphor when you tell me about a new friend you’ve made at
preschool or at the park: “He’s a rocket, Mama!” I haven’t felt this
panic before, this need to keep you little. I was always excited to
watch you grow and develop, hoping that new transitions would ease some
of your unbridled energy and intensity. Suddenly, I find myself here.
Tomorrow, you will be five, and this year will be a significant one, as
you transition into school age. “Wait, slow down, you are too big now,”
I want to say, and I feel for the first time that ache of motherhood,
brought on by the realization that childhood is both fragile and
fleeting. I suspect that you will always move quickly, burning energy
like rocket fuel. You will probably always prefer to run than to walk.
Someday, though, I hope you will remember that your Mama tried to make
your childhood at least a little like those slow-forming crystals: grown
with love and patience over time to reveal something beautiful.
Lilah: Your brother broke open some little geodes today and you happily scooped them up and carried them around for the rest of the afternoon. You used your "I'm trying to show you something really important" face, as you held up your treasures and proudly repeated "rwot rwot rwot." (rock rock rock.)
Lilah: Your brother broke open some little geodes today and you happily scooped them up and carried them around for the rest of the afternoon. You used your "I'm trying to show you something really important" face, as you held up your treasures and proudly repeated "rwot rwot rwot." (rock rock rock.)
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