Last week I walked upstairs to our playroom to find that Easton had made a car wash. He was super excited about it. It was made out of blocks, and also involved a bar of soap, and spit (like, from his mouth). That was the water. I explained that we don’t need to use soap or spit in the playroom, and he said “ok, but Mater is still rinsing,” and I look over and there is Mater. Covered in spit.
I couldn’t even be mad about it.
Yesterday, we had a pretend wedding. Per Easton’s instructions, I married Hulk. He dressed Hulk in his (Easton’s) Sunday best, and wrote my vows, which were: “I love you, Hulk. I like to play.”
He tests my patience daily, but I love his imagination. I love to see what he comes up with when he just plays, and I’m realizing how fast he’s growing and how much I’m going to miss this one day. And in light of his preschool graduation tomorrow, I thought I would document a few of my favorite Easton quotes:
Age 2:
1. During the “mine” phase, entering EPCOT on his first Disney trip, in his meanest two-year-old voice to the girl in the stroller next to his: “My EPCOT.”
2. When I tried to put a shirt on him, “no shirt, Mama, I wear my belly.” He still says this about his feet (“do I have to wear shoes? I just want to wear feet.”), and I love it.
Age 4:
3. To me (7 months pregnant), after watching The Star, “Mom, do you think baby Jesus could be in your belly?” He was so serious.
4. To the Nurse Practitioner at the doctor’s office after she asked if we had any questions, “yes, I do have a question. Why did God make people?”
5. To the dental hygienist, “so, are you like a nurse? But for teeth?”
6. About his treasure-box prize stuffed bear, who he named “Busty,” whose head was hanging by a thread. “Mom, we need to pray for Busty. His head is falling off and he’s about to die.”
Age 5:
7. Pulling up to the cemetery at Grandma’s funeral, where there where three crosses on a hill. Incredulously, “Mom. Is this where Jesus died on the cross?”
8. Upon seeing Grandma in the casket, at first from a distance, “is it just her head in there?”
9. The day after I’d forgotten something, “Mom, I prayed for you last night. That you would get your memory back.”
He is super-smart and keeps us laughing, but sometimes I forget how little he still is. I want to cherish these memories, and wish I remembered more of the funny and sweet things he’s said.
At Grandma’s funeral he also got up and spoke. He just raised his hand when we were asked if anyone wanted to say anything. His interaction with Grandma was minimal (she lived in Atlanta, and had dementia since before he was born), but he recounted every memory he had of her with confidence: “we visited her, and I sang songs. One time I brought her a baby doll and she loved it.” Before the service I spied him in his knees by her casket, praying.
At the grave-side service he said, “Grandma’s body is being buried, but she is in Heaven.” Behind me I heard someone say, “what a precious child.” It brought tears to my eyes. My wild-child boy (who five minutes later was standing on someone’s memorial bench saying “I have the power!” He-Man style), who is frequently in trouble at school for talking or not paying attention, is precious. And he is growing up into a little young man.
I’m generally not the “time, slow down” kind of mom. I’m usually ready for the next phase. But, tomorrow he is graduating from his preschool and he asked his teacher if he could say the opening prayer (he approached her). I was so proud to hear this. I know I will be crying buckets. I hope he knows how loved he is, and how proud I am to be his mom.
Pinestraw Mountain 