When you have a little boy who is…shall we say…very active…a child who has had letters and labels associated with his name, you hold on to certain mantras from other mothers who have come through the trenches of having a child with needs that extend beyond average, every-day parenting (whatever that is). For years now I have clung to some hopeful words from my mother…”it got a lot easier when he was four or five, and around the age of eight he became a delight to me and we had such great times together!”
Today, David turns eight. And he is becoming more of a delight every single day.
He is so clever and so funny. He says the most outrageous things, which he knows will produce a reaction from his peanut gallery of six people. A roll of the eyes…a “no, sir, David!”…peals of laughter, clutched sides and loud groans, opened-mouth shock.
Sure, I could wish for him to change and grow in certain areas, but in the last year he has surprised and delighted me in so many ways. He has become helpful and diligent in many tasks around the house and the yard. He is bright and intelligent, and quick to participate in discussions as we plug away at our studies here at home. He still runs to me now and then, arms open wide, flinging himself into my embrace.
Sometimes I wonder if that twinkle of mischief will ever disappear from those chocolate-brown eyes…and then I think I would be lost if it did.
David is a force to be reckoned with, and I spend much time and effort and prayer focusing on how I am to steward and shape and influence that force. I have spent many days weary and exasperated, frustrated and worried. But from the very start I have been ever captivated by his charms…the sight of those bright eyes and chestnut curls can still melt me. I can be in the throes of mommy-fury over an act of disobedience or carelessness, and then he will launch into a verbose and articulate explanation of “why”…and suddenly I am all grins and giggles.
Happy Birthday, sweet David. I love you dearly.