No that’s not a little man in a big forest. It’s a little Forrest in a big world. He’s 19 months as of Friday and already thinks he’s a 6-year-old. Or maybe 7. He decided on Saturday that there would be NO HOLDING HANDS while we trekked through the trees. None. Meh! he yells, which is his usually-loud way to say no, I’m doing it my way. Meh! Then off he went, no regard for trails or mud or ferns larger than his body in his path. Meh!
He’s getting so big, our little man. Every day brings more words and more understanding, more explorations and more laughter. He’s speaking to us in full sentences that sound like, as our neighbor pointed out, Ozzy Osborne on a good day (aka complete gibberish), nodding or shaking his head, with inflection and tone. Complete sentences we can’t understand, so we just answer back in context to what we’re doing – “You’re right, you aren’t supposed to feed the dog” – which so far satisfies everyone. A couple weeks ago he started singing a song that sounded a lot like Farmer in the Dell, then I finally figured out it’s a naming song they do every day in daycare. So now we sing Forrest is Here! on a regular basis, subbing in names of his classmates, animals, daddy, momma and dog-dog, over and over to his delight. AND he finally started calling me Momma, which has been the best development all month.
Chase is the game of choice around our parts. Changing a diaper has become a chase through the house, giggling baby on the run, arms flapping. Putting on a coat and shoes is also a chase, unless we make it very clear we’re going Outside, so he’ll run over to climb up on the bench and tell us how to put on the shoes and gloves and a coat (I think that’s what he’s saying = ). That’s if he lets us put on the shoes without a Meh! and lots of helping first. There’s a lot of helping lately. I’m trying to pad our time as needed because strapping into the car seat, getting the bread out for toast (or just bread, he’s been eating it plain lately, crust first), putting on socks and shoes, feeding the dog… all requires help. I get out two brooms to sweep, one for each of us, then sweep again behind him because he likes to help.
And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Despite some frustrations on all sides, some testing from his, some tears, I wouldn’t change a bit of this journey. We are so blessed and lucky and privileged to watch Forrest grow, help him grow, and be a part of his life. He has made our lives better and richer, our relationship better and richer, just for being.
I hope the big world is ready for our little Forrest.
And Happy Monday! Mine didn’t start off in the best vein but I’m counting on smooth sailing for the rest of the week. I’m reminding myself regularly today of the last words I said to Forrest when I dropped him off at daycare:
Have a GOOD DAY!