Never the devil

I occasionally feel guilty for not writing about Tasman as often as I write about Hudson.  Truth is Tasman has grown to be a five year old boy of considerable ease.  He is constantly happy, often goofy and is not at the stage where listening is optional.  He eats well, goes to bed easily and sleeps a good 9-10 hours a night.  His maladies are neither severe nor repetitive and while very much a fan of screen time, he can be easily lured into a game or a puzzle or even an educational based task of writing or reading.  He excels at school (could have skipped SK without a blip) and instantly made multiple friends at his new school.

I know what lurks around the corner.  The innocent five-year old quickly can morph into the insolent six-year old.  He watches his older brother very closely and mimics his sassiness on occasion until our smiles turn to surprised frowns and he rushes over to hug our legs and tell us he loves us.  I know about the constant un-tethering of my children, offering them more and more rope each day to allow the experiences of life to hit them without the parental armor.  To let them begin to make the decisions that will shape and affect their brain, heart and soul.  But now, during the banal hours of the work day, I close my eyes and I see Tasman’s smile.  Or watch him dance.  Or even remember the occasional temper tantrum that is so comical in its ferocity that holding a straight face is pretty much impossible.  I long for him.  I crave his radiant laughter and can’t wait for him to tackle me when I arrive home from work.  Sure it’s just a brief moment torn away from his Batman Lego Wii game, but in that moment I can feel his love burning for me and I revel in it, bask in its uncomplicated goodness.

I love them both so much and know their differences will help define who they eventually become.  Sibling love has an obvious impact and as both a participant and spectator in their lives, I am eager to see where their relationship gaps grow and where it eventually reconnects (or doesn’t, life is not perfect).

For now, I will continue wrapping myself in Tasman’s love knowing the rushes to the door soon become the nods through earphones and rolling of the eyes at my barrage of daily questions.

He is good little egg that boy.

No more fiction entries for awhile (have to write more of it!) – would love to have some feedback on it.

Please comment below.