For the first time today, while Wesley was hanging out in his room being cool, the rhythmic noise of a basketball being bounced against the wall seeped through the door way. I liked it, and thought how quickly it will become one of the more common background noises that stream through the house becoming a norm. I probably should have told him to stop, but I didn't, for some reason I found it comforting.
I didn't realize until I heard it, but it was one of those defining sounds, that reminds me that this is indeed a house with a fast growing boy. Thinking about it now, it's funny how a simple noise could unexpectedly cause such excitement of the unexplored world of the unknown new, that is to come, and at the same time so sad for the contentment of the old familiar. As aware as I was of the repetitive thud caused by Wesley, I hope I'm as equally unaware of the noise it will replaced from that same little boy.
Lately, I've been kept on my toes. The terrible twos are transitioning quit nicely in the trying threes. I remember them with Wesley, but his threes did nothing to prepare me for Calvin's. If this is one of those things that only gets one-upped by the child next in line, I can't imagine what Josephine will put me through.
Its clear, the life that is so vibrant in Calvin. I try to follow his lead, throwing myself in fully to the whatever's of the right now. He's got that, jump before you look characteristic that I envy. A trait that is raw at two, but thankfully not lost at thirty-two, because I see it still thrives in glimpses of his father, and I like it.
This passion of Calvin's swings both ways and the spit fire of this boy is something to be challenged. Perhaps showing me some insight of a characteristic passed down from a source a little closer to home.
Bottom line, when there is a quiet Calvin, there should be a nervous Mumma.
(his fire usually ends him up in time out, which now have to be spent with his nose against the wall, so he can't spit at me when I walk by….yep… I said… spit.at.me…)
We officially call Josephine, a walker. Walking has now become her first instinct when it's time for her to get from point A, to point B and she has learn the art of being charming at only 10 months.
She amazes me in so many ways at how she has caught on so quickly to manipulating things in going the way she would like them to. Quickly walking away while clapping, when she's caught putting things into the fire place. Crinkling her nose in a very isn't this funny way, when she knows she's gotten into the pots and pans because I've forgotten to refasten the doors. Watching my face with a half smile before she pinches my arm, knowing my response will be a loud "ouch!" and then giggling while I put her down, because sometime the reaction to the pinch, is just worth the consequence. Secretly, I love it.
There aren't big things happen right now, but beautiful things, the everyday things that are exactly how, they will never be again, and I'm feeling very present in it all right now and I like it.
I love it.