I like being mom to an 8-year-old boy.
He builds forts from broken pine trees, and spies on everyone in sight.
He still wakes up with a big smile, and comes downstairs quietly, walking up behind us with a hug.
He loves to line up his toys with the plan in his imagination, laying flat on the wood floor, whispering the dialogue as he plays.
He’s kind and so quiet and knows just what he thinks and wants. He’s so, so stubborn. Don’t get in his way when he’s in that place. He’s dreaming, with plans at the ready.
He sits and draws quietly, for long lengths of time, detail upon detail being rehearsed and erased and re-set on the page. I ask him why he keeps editing. And he tells me ‘it has to look the same on my paper as it does in my mind.’
I love this sweet boy of ours. We wait to see what he will do, where he will go, who he will be.
I think the future will be a challenge, for both him and his parents. I think it will be a path filled with obstacles and plans, and I hope someday, dreams fulfilled.
“Each man should frame life so that at some future hour fact and his dreaming meet.”