Old but good
L and I have had to devote an inordinate amount of time to Rosie in the past week because of daycare adjustment backlash and general two-year-old boundary testing, and as a result, Noah has not gotten a lot of our time. He’s been great about it, though, and even said to me once when I was apologizing to him for how we kept having to put things off because of Rosie’s needs, “Yeah, she’s doing that thing where she’s trying to figure out the rules, isn’t she.” Oh, I’m so grateful for such an understanding brother. So big and so generous with his time and heart.
So because of that, I’m pulling this post from the archives and sharing it today to give Noah a little bit of well-deserved time in the spotlight.
May I please be excused? My heart is full.
October 22, 2007
I lift Noah out of his bed after naptime. With hair all tousled and floppy and eyes full of playground sand, he fits his head into the crook of my neck. Like I do every day after his nap, I ask him if he wants a snack, thinking I already know his answer. Instead, he says, “I want to go outside,” into my shoulder, and softly swings his legs on either sides of my hips. “Let’s get you into some play clothes,” I say, and we open his drawer.
“I want the silver shirt,” he says, pointing to a heather gray sweatshirt. For Noah, gray does not exist. “Because I like silver.” I slip it over his head. “That was easy,” he says with a grin. A boy with a head circumference in the ninety-fifth percentile pays attention to these things.
We walk through the kitchen, heading for the back door. He stops. “I want a snack for outside,” he decides. “And let’s put it in a pink bowl. Because you like pink.” And he hugs my leg.
(For the record, pink isn’t my favorite color, but Noah has always insisted it was, and for him, I’d agree if he said my favorite color was doo doo brown.)
“Noah, you want some juice to drink with your snack?” He thinks, head cocked to one side. “No, I’m ok,” he says, like he’s all of a sudden an aloof teenager.
I hand him his snack laden pink bowl. “Thank you,” he says, and heads toward the back door. “Now I’m gonna go outside and eat my snack and wait for my Daddy to come play with me.”
He walks outside and happily settles himself down on the back stoop to eat and wait, warmed by the sun and comforted by his certainty that soon, Daddy will come out to join him.