One more year

Today I helped KTDID begin to set up her classroom at Next Generation. In 3 weeks she'll start teaching middle school science at the private school. Her room is awesome and HUGE. X-man has been Mr. Science lately, so I asked him if he wanted to come see KTDID's room. MacTroll brought him over and he got a short tour of the big school.

X-man's at this crossroads, as he always is, between wanting to be a big boy and wanting to stay -- sheltered. A year from now, he'll attend kindergarten. He's got one year left to "early childhood." He is no longer a baby. He's long and lean. He's bright. He's sensitive and struggling. He makes emotional and logical connections that amaze me. He is beginning to read. He's beginning to write. He's beginning to spell. He loves math. He's relentlessly inquisitive. He's an awesome climber. He was surprised and happy that I bought him tennis shoes that tie, because he wants to learn -- "Then I'll be a big kid." He sees all the older kids in his pre-school room who are about to leave for the big K, and he measures himself to them (which is both positive and negative).

Earlier this week, I mentioned that we changed his room around. He not only wanted his room changed. He wanted the Thomas wall decals taken down and replaced with Batman and Superman (and Wonder Woman if I could find her -- but, of course, I can't). Batman arrived today. So, I took down the Thomas and put up the Batman. I got a big thank you at bedtime, and an extra bedtime snuggle. And normally, I'd make him go to his own room, but for 30 minutes, I loved that he wanted to curl up to me, put his head on my shoulder and fall asleep. But before he drifted off, he repeated, "I love you, Mom" over and over and over again, not because of Batman, just because it felt good to cuddle.

I keep thinking of all the things I want to teach him. I keep trying to tune in to his developing interests while tuning out the annoyances. Let's face it, his overtired repetitive asking of the same question drives me absolutely crazy, as well as the "Mom? Mom? Mom?" As he tries to think of something to say and then accuses me of not listening.

We're raising a boy who likes to fly by the seat of his pants. He likes to fly because he knows that he's got a good support network. And often times it scares me to death that I'm not an adequate safety net. I get tired of always watching, in all honesty. But I think I'm allowing him to be who he is, while trying to provide guidance, even if he thinks I'm a hard ass.

Nights like tonight, I think he knows I'm trying my best so he can be at his best.