My Goose. My Sunshine. My sweet little boy. He’s turned into such a - Boy. The baby who came home with us three years ago has disappeared and the child in his place is the biggest pain in the ass I have ever known.
He’s also alarmingly polite, kind hearted, and wickedly clever. Or clever in a wicked way.
There is very little this kid sets his mind to that he can’t accomplish, and my job as Mom is to run behind him and do my level best to be his spotter.
In our family we have some rules about climbing:
If it is higher than your head a grownup must be within earshot.
If you go up, you’ve got to figure out how to get down.
If it’s not outside, make sure it’s properly bolted to the wall before ascending.
I do not believe this is normal.
We’ve worked on other rules, like “NEVER EVER EVER leave without Mommy or Daddy.” and “Always wear your safety belt/helmet/knee pads and wrist guards.” We’ve barely managed to work in some normal ones like, “No Popsicles for breakfast.”
How two aggressively bookish people who would much rather spend the day reading than running managed to make a thrill seeking adrenaline junkie is one of the universe’s great jokes.
Being Zane’s parent won’t get any less terrifying; the risks won’t always be as obvious as they are now, but my little boy will always run to the edge of cliffs and he will not always stop. The oddest thing to me is that I find myself running right along with him.
Zane is teaching us to be less cautious, to think things through just a little bit less, and to trust our gut more. Yes, most parents given the opportunity will wax poetic about how awesome their kid is, and how much he/she is teaching them. I’d like to think they are all just as surprised about it as I am.
We are changing, and for the better, because Zane is with us.
So Happy Birthday Goose, you are awesome in every way.