He’s getting so big.
Today he turned 21 months old. In three short months, he’ll be TWO. It’s funny how it feels like he just got here, yet at the same time, I can’t remember us before him. In only 21 short months, he’s hunkered down here and put his little feet up on my heart. He’s carved out a place, a comfy little corner of the world to call his own. He’s developed a brilliant spark deep down in his green eyes and he lights up with our praise. There’s no one like him.
I’ve often thought how I couldn’t wait until Ezra was a bit older so we could actually speak to eachother and he could express himself through language and tell me all about who he is and what he thinks and feels and who he wants to be… I had no idea that words were unnecessary for this… that Ezra would be able to communicate himself so fully to me before a single adjective or noun. He’s so expressive and he wears his heart on his sleeve. He can be coy. He thinks he’s hilarious. (rightly so.) He walks with a jaunt that screams “man on a mission”. He carries intensity and purpose.
When I say that I can’t remember life before Ezra, that’s not completely true. I can remember… It was much easier. Less complicated. More relaxed. But it was also less colorful. Less appreciated. Less generous. I’m slowly learning to appreciate the colorful NOW more than the carefree THEN. Color is better than free-time.
The days are far from perfect and sometimes that jaunt of his carries him right past my line of sanity and straight into the land of Woe-Is-Me, where the fuse grows short and the days grow freakishly long.
Sometimes that ‘brilliant spark’ deep in his eyes gets a mischievous glint to it and threatens to melt me into a puddle of messy mom-goo.
And yet always, (ALWAYS! ALWAYS!) that giggle works its magic and disarms my skeptic heart.
Thank you, sweet boy.