As I sit here, I realize that I seem to be in a perpetual holding pattern of waiting (impatiently) for Baby K's entry into this world. His constant kicks and bounces are a reminder that he, too, is anxious for less restrained activity, though he apparently thinks that things are a little too comfy at this point to make any rapid entry into the unknown world that awaits him. So, here we await the arrival of this very-much-loved boy into our world.
Lochlan and Madigan are playing on the porch, in the sunshine, running dirt from one location to the next with their dump trucks and trains. Lochlan is in constant observation of his hero - big bro. He pushes his train, tentatively walking on those new-found legs of his, glancing up at the door every so often to make sure I'm marveling appropriately. Madigan burst through the door exclaiming, "Mommy, come see my footprints! They're wonderful!" The delight of such simple discoveries as one's own footprints in the dirt, is so infectious. To be so easily marveled is such a gift that children are blessed with. I pray, often, that I will be able to encourage that curiosity and wonder in these little hearts as they grow/learn in this life they are given.
Declan has been on a bumpy stretch of pathway in his life these past few weeks, with his own ideas (ideals?) challenging nearly every one else's. We've been consistently reminding him that there are some things that really are non-negotiable (like wearing clothing on a day of arctic temperatures), and there are some things that he has valid say in (i.e. he's entitled to his own opinions). That line is a tough one that we seem to each bump up against throughout our lives, but when you're two years old, it's just absurdly frustrating and difficult. His tender heart makes me smile constantly, even during the most trying portions of our day. He's always game for a good snuggle, hug, kiss, or act of kindness which he can bestow upon one of us. I actually think his eyes sometimes sparkle!
As Virginia and I hiked along a steep trail with Madigan last weekend, he started to lag behind slightly, chatting to himself quietly. Then, he looked up, moving into a gallop to catch up with us and said, "Not a good time to think." Yes, he's his father's son. Madigan's journey into maturity continues to astound me, but every so often he "regresses" into 4-year old-hood and I can't help but chuckle. A few days ago, after I chastised him for snatching a coveted toy from Declan in the car, he announced with a pungent scowl: "I'm going to get out of my car seat, sit on the floor and be disagreeable". I reminded him that such a decision might not go so well for him.
Ah, the imperial Madigan speaks.... I was chuckling through all of this, and marveling at how this dear daughter maintains sanity whilst Kelton defies time and gravity to grab a few more hours in the womb....
Eryn, I love that I 'know ' your wee boys. Not near as much as I'd like to, mind you. But having met them and held them, and enjoyed them personally, makes me love your posts even more. God bless you my sweet niece.
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