School is out for the summer and the days are getting longer. Boy oh boy are the days getting longer. Being the sole teacher/disciplinarian/guardian/playmate/muse of a three-year-old boy from sun up to sun down has given me a greater appreciation for Sean’s teachers — even though they
slighted him missed the opportunity to feature him in the school slideshow as prominently as my precious beautiful special boy-genius deserves (wink wink).
By dinnertime, I was exhausted. I set down a bowl of
hastily made gourmet macaroni and cheese in front of Sean and then I collapsed into my own chair, too tired to eat. Instead I just sat there and watched him clumsily spooning the little orange spirals out of the bowl and into his mouth. I noticed how the afternoon light from the windows outlined his profile with a tiny white line, illuminating the imperceptible baby fine hairs on his face. I thought to myself if I ever get around to doing a painting of him, this is the scene I would paint, his hair the color of an old penny, his impossibly long dark eyelashes, his face outlined with the iridescent glow of sunset.
He stopped eating and looked at me. He gave me a sweet smile that belied the number of times he’d visited the time out corner today.
“I love you Sean,” I said to him.
“I wudz you Mommy,” he replied as he screwed up his face and shyly pressed his ear into his hunched up shoulder.
“You’re a good boy.”
“You’re a good mama,” he enthused pointing his cheese-encrusted spoon at me for emphasis.
Sigh. I thought about that for a moment. I thought about how I had yelled at him earlier in the day. I’m not that good of a mama. But that boy knows I love him with all of my heart. And hopefully that will cover the myriad of mistakes I make in parenting him on any given day.
“Oh Sean,” I confessed more to myself than to him. “You are a better boy than I am a mama.”
“That’s okay,” he consoled, “You are the poodiest wady in the whole woold.”
Man. I’m really going to hate it when his world gets bigger.