Things Not to Forget

If anything, the last year of travel and everything so far this year has made me painfully aware of the fact that time moves forward at a very fast pace. Wyatt will continue to move with it at lightning speed for, well, I guess the rest of his life. Even though, it seems like time is standing still for me, I know I am also moving forward into time. I see the signs, gray hair popping up on my head like a wack-a-mole game, a strong desire to eat at Luby’s at 5 p.m. and hurry home, you know the basics. It’s hard, and it’s also totally not hard. The gray in my hair actually adds a nice shine I didn’t have before. And if you can’t admit that the Luann Fish plate at Luby’s is the best, then I just don’t know how to help you. But some things are hard. There are so many things about Wyatt I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to get to 85 and sit in my chair and try without success to recall all the little things that make up a day with our sweet little boy. I want to bottle it all up and store it away. So maybe this will help jog my memory later for after I get home from Luby’s  and I am having my evening tea before bed. So this blog is for Wyatt. And for me.

Things I hope to never forget.

They way your small hand feels inside mine and the way you always reach for my hand when we are walking anywhere. I know at some point, you’ll no longer need the assurance of mommy’s hand and it will probably be so uncool to hold my hand, but I hope not. I hope you’ll hold my hand forever, because your hand in mine is one of the greatest feelings I have ever known.

The way you say “yogurt” which is more like “yogrit”. Since it’s one of your favorite foods, you say this all the time. I hesitate to correct you, because it’s so gosh darn cute I can’t handle it.

The way you run. Which is not a normal full-out kids run, but more human imitating animal. We figure this is probably because you have mostly only observed animals running and not actual people and the time we did try to show you how people should run, you said, “no, I want to run like a lion”. OK. You run like a lion for as long as you can.

The way you love your family. I suspect this will never change and you will stay a sweet loving boy forever. But I have seen teenagers, I know what rude destruction they leave in their wake. I hope you come back to us though saying, “I love you with all my heart and all of my life,” Because that is still, hands down, one of the greatest things you have ever said.

Your fearlessness. The only bug this kid has run away from is a wasp. And that is for good reason, seeing as how one literally chased him down like I don’t know what. So he is a bit scared of those… But he will turn over any rock or any thing he can to see what bugs lurk underneath it. I have screamed many times after he turns over a rock and there is a spider. He just says, “It’s ok mom, it’s just a spider, it will run away”. I am glad you do not suffer from the same phobia I do.

The way you dig your feet into my back at night like a cat. I always say I will never miss that. But I’m sure the time will come, and soon, where you will be in your own bed and I will actually get to sleep through the night again (probably not because I will be worried about in you in the other room) and I will miss those little feet jamming themselves under my back.

Speaking of your feet… your stinky feet. At 4, you are on the cusp of becoming a very smelly child. You have your fair share of smelly days but your feet still have that good baby stinky feet smell. I love that smell. I want to hold on to it, because I know soon you’ll smell like a sweaty pirate out at sea who lives in a locker.

Your epic dance moves. I have many videos saved just in case you ever need reminding of just how awesome of a dancer you are. Michael Jackson would applaud your moonwalk effort.

Your jokes that make no sense. You have said on more than one occasion, that you want to make people laugh. And you do. You are pretty funny and you tell some good, actual, legitimate jokes. But 60% of your material right now is funny only to you and maybe other 4 year olds. Things like, “Knock, Knock. Who’s there? Banana. Banana Who? Banana Apple face.” And then you laugh and laugh as if Eddie Murphy is in our living room. We laugh with you of course, because umm, we are your parents and you should be able to depend on us to always laugh at your jokes, funny or not so much.

All of your great questions. I hope you will always ask questions. Don’t take anyone’s word for it, don’t blindly follow everyone else. Keep asking questions. This skill will serve you well in your years to come. I hope to remember how many times you have stumped me with your questions about life and God and why we do certain things.

These are just a few things I want to remember about your first 4 years on this earth. As fast as these years have gone by, it scares me to think how fast the next 4 will go by. I still have those moments when I look at you and it’s like a surprise you are even here. I think, where did you come from? How did we end up with a child!? It’s been a crazy, wild ride Wyatt. I can’t wait to see what else is in store.

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