On being three

I’m a little behind on these posts. Life in the kingdom, as everywhere, has been strange of late and the change to my routines in that strangeness took away my normal wiring time. Plus I forgot.  It happens, you know. Then I was reminded and here we are.

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Dear Littler Prince,

So this is three?  Wild and amazing and cranky and empathetic and constantly surprising.  The current state of affairs has certainly thrown what little routine you’d grown used to out the window and you just shrugged your shoulders and carried on.  Part of that is having your brother around, of course, but most of that is just who you are.  You take things in stride, come what may.  That doesn’t factor in when you are tired or hungry.  Then the raging tantrums shake the walls and rattle the windows.  That’s all part of it.  Normal.  Expected.  And perfectly fine.

Your laugh, wild like your hair and your exuberance, is perfectly fine as well.  It also shakes the walls and rattles the windows and reverberates with a joy that is nothing short of infectious.  It fills this house and bursts free at the seams.  I hope you laugh that way forever.  I hope your world continues to be so full of things to laugh at.

You took to your scooter the way your older brother took to his bike.  You zoom and swerve and fall and pick yourself back up and zoom off again.  Faster and more fearless with each passing day.  It too is a joy to behold.

Then the tantrums come and you curl your fists up and your eyes well with tears and you scream and scream and scream.  Those will pass, of course.  They always do.  In the moment and in general.  Though, perhaps I’ll miss the times when the solution to those is a hug and a cuddle, or a silly face made in passing, or any of the other little things that can often cheer you up that you will one day outgrow.  The transition will be slow but it has already begun.

I will miss those days more than you… and this isn’t about me, so I’ll move along.

What this all comes down to is you are learning (exponentially), you are growing (like a weed), you are silly (perhaps like a certain Jester), you are crazy (like all of us here) and, to overuse the word, a joy.  It’s as simple as that.

And long may that continue.

Love you kiddo,

Daddy

Matticus

The Jester

little feet, silly truths

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The puddle swallowed his little feet, and then exploded away as his next step was taken in earnest.  The splashing wasn’t intentional but the running was.  He was always running.  Running from one end of the house to the other.  Running down the alley behind our condo.  Running from the store to the car.  Running in the rain where he encountered pools of the heaven’s manna waiting patiently for him.

Then, of course, it was no longer about running, at least for a few minutes.  Water gushed and spouted and pulled away from him by the combined forces of pressure and momentum.  He didn’t care about the science of why jumping in the puddle caused the water to spray out in halos and arcs.  He only cared that it happened and that he was in control.  There are so few things in a toddler’s life they can control, he latched on to this new game, this new experience, with all of his might and enthusiasm.

Eyes wide with glee and mouth full of joyful shrieks and exclamations, time thinned while the toddler explored the cause and effect of his discovery.  One foot at a time.  Both feet together.  Running through.  Walking through.  Stopping in the middle.  Jumping into the middle.  Jumping on the edge.  Twirling around.  Behind those shimmering pupils, I could see his mind capturing it all and storing it away for further contemplation later when he would have time because he was no longer fully engrossed in the here and now.  And, of course, I laughed along with him, joined my voice with his in a chorus of giggles and guffaws.  The laugh of a child would always be the paramount of compulsory contagions.

Clothes, unprepared for the onslaught, were drenched in no time.  After a while, equal amounts of water dripped from dangling sleeves and bent knees as was sent cascading around him with each new foray into the puddle.  The wetness would eventually be the cause of the game’s end, in the forms of coldness and discomfort, but until then the grin would never waver on his eager face.  Just as I couldn’t help but join him in laughter, he was powerless to resist the demanding call of adventure.

Even if he could have, why would he have wanted to?  Children are built to learn and discover through such bouts of messy frivolity.  They know this simple truth in their bones.

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This post was written for Lizzi.  I accepted the challenge to write beautifully without pouring my blood across the page, sharing something worth sharing, worth reading, that wasn’t about pain or loss.  As she says in her posts, which you really should read, those types of words are compelling and worth reading, but we should also remember to share our happy moments and our silly truths from time to time as well.

endless

Giggles bubble and bounce,
In time with my heart’s pulsing beat,
And the sound echoes from wall to wall,
Like a smile in search of a treat.

Beware the laughter’s pounce,
The toddler seeks to catch you unaware,
And, like an egg, have you fall, you will fall,
But in the joy you will not care.

Contagious chortles will trounce,
All plans for the day laid to waste in a pile,
Of toys, and at least one ball, there’s always a ball,
And the chaos will hit eleven on the dial.

Prepare to give away every ounce,
And then even more, of your time and energy,
When the child starts to call and call,
For all that endless playful reverie.

Jesterly Challenge Month – November 4th

Princess Rosebud asked me to list the ten (or hundred) best things about being a father to a little boy.  I settled on 18.  It seemed like a good number at the time.  Anyway, give it a read and let me know how I did in the comments.

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In no particular order:

  1. Giggles
  2. Little boy hugs and smooches
  3. All those squirrels
  4. Snuggles while reading books
  5. Being told, “I love you” out of the blue
  6. The wild swings, from a miniature to grandiose scale and back again, of the saying: never a dull moment
  7. Imaginative playtime
  8. Parrot mode
  9. Helper mode
  10. The random moments of song
  11. The unexpected insights and moments of brilliance
  12. Silly mode
  13. The dimples
  14. Mischievous blue eyes sparkling with a million sunsets reflecting off the surf
  15. Thud
  16. The fearlessness
  17. Unbiased and unfiltered joy at new discoveries
  18. Seeing the world untouched by my own jaded view

a moment of brilliance

 photo paris_zps402b2b52.jpgcredit: Trey Ratcliff

Life had been unexpectedly more hectic than usual for Henry recently.  Troubles at home and at work had kept him on edge far more than he was used to.  He found himself irritable, frustrated, and tired for the first time in years.  The days were snap shot blurs where he bounced between going through the motions and scrambling to stay solvent.  Things were moving too fast and too slow at the same time.  The nights were worse, as he spent the dark hours awake churning over the missteps of the current day and the demands of those that followed.

So, when he found himself wandering near the Eiffel Tower on his walk home from work and happened upon a pocket garden he had never seen before, Henry was stunned to find himself stopping, admiring, breathing in the moment and forgetting about his cares and concerns.  He was even more surprised when he took off his loafers to let his feet taste the grass.  They enjoyed the experience so much they convinced the rest of him to lay on the grass too.

Above the tower rose towards the clouds.  The sun pierced through the lazy drifting puffs of white and poured into the garden.  The vibrant purples and reds of the flowers at his feet, Earth’s beautiful artistic creations, stood out clearly against the backdrop of Eiffel’s beautiful artistic creation.  Though man and nature seldom work well together, the scene for Henry that afternoon was perfect.  It was bliss.  It was the moment of relaxation and recuperation he needed.

As the sun slid behind the foliage at the edge of the garden, Henry rose and replaced his shoes and then continued on his journey towards home.  His struggles were not over, but the moment he had taken for himself, to enjoy the beauty of the world, was enough to carry him forward with renewed purpose.  He had the knowledge that there was more to life than turmoil and strife.  He had the understanding that even in the darkest times there could be moments of joy if he would take the time to pick his head up and look for them.

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Written in response to this week’s Picture Writing Prompt provided by moi.

What do you see?  Write it, link it, post it!