Friday, July 11, 2014

They once were quiet.

Dear Ashton,

You were the easiest baby. Seriously. The easiest. You pretty much had to be since your big brother was a needy, dependent two-year-old monster. As your babydom melded to toddlerdom, you retained that easyness. Terrible Twos hasn't pertained to you. But, now, the closer you get to that pivotal third birthday, the clearer it is that our days with an easy Ashton are limited. Your carefree, easygoing nature quickly transforms to stubborn, strong-willedness that sends you into fits of rage. You whine and grunt and hit. You announce with unerring authority that it's your way or no way. You allude discipline and fight against rules that prohibit certain wants and desires. You rebel at every turn and opportunity. Tactics that work on your brother have proven ineffective with you. I don't know whether to celebrate your spirit or fear it's ever-growing nature.

Oh, Ashton. My dear sweet boy. I've been dreading this stage with you, but here it is. Welcome to the world your brother has existed in practically his whole life. The world of resistance and fierce determination to write your own course, no matter the restrictions and parameters enforced upon you. I have a smattering of gray hairs with your name on them already, and you're months shy of your third birthday. Lord in your mercy, hear my prayer.

Be you. Just be it quieter, please. That's all.



Once upon a time, I peered down at the innocent babies in my arms, marveling at their existence, wondering what their personalities would be, what their voices would sound like, what it would be like to have conversations with them. But now that they can talk, I kind of wish I could go back to the stage where they lay quiet and content in my arms, if only for a few hours so my mind can have some peace. Here are some of the things that have come out of my boys' mouths that I thought to record. I wish I would carry a tape recorder around with me to preserve their conversations for all times.

Out of the Mouth of Spencer and Ashton, Edition 5.

7.31.13 (I found this one on my iPhone's notes from a year ago)
The set-up: Bathing the boys one night. Spencer is trying to scratch his butt.

Spencer: I can't reach, Ashton. You itch it for me.

And Ashton does.

The set-up: Conversation the morning after Spencer ran into a counter and cut his head. The night before I put an extra pillow by the guardrail on his bed for "protection" since Spencer was worried about hurting his owie.

Spencer: None of the blood fell down.

Me: It didn't?

Spencer. No. I tink the hair ate it.

Me: Really? Was the hair hungry?

Spencer: Yeah!!

The set-up: At the breakfast table after I sang a made-up song about loving, kissing, hugging them all day long.

Spencer: If you're going to kiss and hug me all day long, I'm going to jump off the deck with my parachute and go to the moon.

Me: Parachutes help you go down, not up. You'll land on the ground, not the moon.

Spencer: I'll ride an airplane.

Me: It won't reach the moon.

Spencer: I mean, a rocket.

Me: What will you do when you're hungry?

Spencer: I'll bring food and toys so I can play.

Me: What if you get tired?

Spencer: I'll bring my bed. Or I'll jump down with my parachute and come home.

Me: That'll take a long time.

Spencer: I'll watch movies.

Me: You'll have a TV in your parachute?

Spencer: Yep! And I'll turn into a dinosaur when I land.

Ashton: Nooooo!!!!!! I don't want to be a dinosaur!

Me: Not you, Ash. Spencer will be a dinosaur.

Spencer: And I'll eat you guys!

Me: Nope. You're a herbivore and eat our plants.

Spencer: I'm a T-rex. Dinosaurs eat people.

Me: Won't you be sad when we're in your belly?

Spencer: No. Roar! Crunch, crunch.

Me: That's not very nice.

Spencer: I'll just be wearing a dinosaur costume. Can I get a dinosaur costume?

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