Saturday, December 22, 2012
Last night was the Christmas program for Siley's pre-school.
It was mayhem "backstage" before the show; short, excited, outbursty mayhem.
Then they all marched in wearing their Christmas colors. The girls had on taffeta bubble skirts and flouncy dresses and cable-knit tights. Silas rocked a half-zip. All afternoon I would reach over and nonchalantly unzip it just a little and sure enough, he'd zip it back up. A turtle in his shell. I get it, it's cozier that way. If there's one thing I understand, it's cozy.
My tiny little baby was so stinking cute up front. I couldn't even take it.
He kept licking his lips. Licking his lips.
We were waving like mad but he couldn't track us, so he kept scanning the room, licking those puckery-perfect lips.
A tiny piece of my heart chipped off while his eyes tried to find us. You don't even want to know how close I came to making a scene, because this boy needed to find us. I remembered all the days he looked at us without seeing us and now we're his and he's ours and I needed him to be sure that we were there, yelling just for him.
In the meantime, he licked.
Over and over and over.
I chapped just watching him.
He sang every song and did all the motions. I only had eyes for him.
I don't know how he has transformed into this tiny little man who follows directions and participates like it's his job in life. I think it has something to do with the ladies who choose every day to put on cardigans and cute shoes and go to their job, where very short people race around in circles and tell them nonsense.
And God. I think the transformation has something to do with Him, too.
Sidenote: Silas was gifted with a trial-size gift pack of watermelon-scented Thomas the Train personal hygiene products. He took the bottle of bright red "hair gel" for show-and-tell yesterday. His teacher let him put some in his hair for a demonstration to his classmates.
The Candy Land castle in Heaven is reserved for these women and those like them. Of that I am certain.
It pinched my heart up.
I'm the one who gets to hold his hand on every sidewalk. He asks me to scratch his back and "squish" his ears (it's a long story). He asks me every single night "Will you get me after morning?" even though he gets himself up "after morning" and we all darn well know it.
What I'm trying to say is, I'm the luckiest Mom in the land. I'll be honest, watching all those cute Christmas kiddos, I felt sort of bad for all of the other Mamas who don't know the distinct privilege of being Silas's Mommy. He's just the stinking cutest. You understand.
He's wild and wiry and yes, tonight he identified the animals in the nativity as "the moose and the duck", but he's full-on Martin. One of us. He's come so far and sometimes I just need to sit with that thought and let it sink down a little deeper.
Love you Silas. So super proud of you and your fancy singing show.