The Little One came bouncing into my bedroom today to wake me with this news flash: “MOM, do you know what’s really weird? I am like half you and half Dad!”
Breaking news, indeed! I wonder how long he lounged in bed, thinking this through, which parts of him are like me and which like his father. What prompted that thread of thought? Why, today, did the lightbulb go on?
Of course, it’s not news to me since I have thought about it nearly every day since the day he was born. Within hours of his arrival, it was clear that he was… him. I can feel the day so clearly; Big D had gone back home to be with E and Grandma, so I was Alone with the Little One for the first time. He had been sleeping in the little hospital bassinet thingy next to my bed, but I just had to hold him in my arms. I gently picked him up, and cradled him, and kissed his sweet head. It was so quiet and peaceful and I was in heaven. Really, it was a moment where one could, just faintly, hear the angels singing. He opened his eyes and looked at me (or in my general direction — I was wearing my rose colored glasses). His face had barely started to scrunch into a look of vague annoyance, and 3.7 seconds later he was screaming “Feed me — NOW!”
And I knew right then. The first one had been a sucker baby; the one who coos softly for five minutes to let us know that he might be feeling a tad peckish. This one was a different half of me and of his dad.
On the bad days, I see the parts of my husband that make me nuts, reflected in his little face, his words, his actions. On the really bad days, I see myself reflected in the mirror of his eyes. Now, there are so, so, so many more good days than bad, and I love his enthusiasm, spark, humor, and drive, weaknesses and strengths. He still expects so much, so fast — right now! — from the world, and from himself. He makes me hear the angels sing every day, that Little One who will soon be as tall as me.