Does he look impossibly old to anyone else?

“I’m going to be a little bit sad, Mom”  as he realized that today was his last day of preschool.  Then he thought about it for a moment.  ”Eh.  Just a little.”

It’s mind-boggling, that he will start kindergarten next year.  But it’s equally mind-boggling to think of all of the…life we have yet to come.

If we’re lucky, of course.

And then we went to the playground.  I needed to see my babies being babies.  Ones who  run and play and jump and whoop.

And sometimes wear only one sock.

See?  He still needs his Mama.

Also Superman missed his nap, which made him delightfully clingy.

I think we needed each other today.

God, life is good.

“SSSSSSHHHHH…..nake.”  Pax warns.  ”Nake.”  Then he’ll tiptoe in the ridiculously exaggerated fashion that only a two-year-old can…..and let loose with some sort of spiderman gun-thing:  ”TCHOO!! TCHOO-TCHOO!!”

“NAKE!” he’ll shriek.  Then, in a low voice, “DED”.  Now he strikes a dramatic pose, hands on hips.  I think he saw Superman do this once.  Even at two, he is oddly convincing.  Once the pose has been held for a sufficient length of time, he runs back over to his dat, and climbs on.  I start crawling again.  ”Dat!” he reminds me with a pat on my head.  Oh yeah.  Meow, I say.  Meeooow.

Until, of course, he spots another nake.  

ps.  How hysterical are these little tights for boys? LOVE

It’s just pizza, really.  Mike has his beer, I have my wine.

Pax is working on his pizza fold and hamming it up for the camera.

Raines humors me.  A bit.

This is it.  Our Friday night.  Just the four of us, a pizza and drinks.  Two kiddos who are very excited that their Dad doesn’t have to work the next day.

With kids this young, sometimes I feel like we’re living in a bubble.  (But in a good way.)  They are just so content – content with themselves, with life in general.  Mike and I buzz around doing and cleaning and planning and rushing, and yet they are just there.  Totally present, totally in the moment, and totally, completely thrilled with our simple Friday night.

It’s the best night of their week.

Time, please stop.

R:  Mom, what goes pbbbt pbbt tbbbttt [insert fart sounds]

Me:  Uh….I have no idea.

R:  A tunk-toop!

Me:  Wha….??

[R falls over laughing.]

But his friend Mairia was over today, and she’s eight.  And therefore versed in REAL jokes.  She was instructing him in knock-knock jokes which he loves.  They were going through the whole “Boo!  Boo who?  Don’t cry..” thing when all of a sudden, Pax looks up. “Na na!” he says.  It took us a while to catch on.  ”NA NA!! NA NA!”  Oh! Right.  ”Who’s there?” we answer.  ”BOO” he says, in his deep baby voice.  Be still my heart.  ”Boo, who Pax?”  He pauses.  We wait for it.  He puts his head down.  Peeks up at us from under his lashes.  ”Yad” he says in a tiny little voice.  ”Yad.”

OMG.  ’Yad’ is Pax for sad.  He was doing the joke!!  He got it!  We (the nanny and I) fell  off the chair laughing while Pax grinned at us.  So proud.

“Good joke, Buddy!!” says Raines, giving Pax a high-five.  These two.  I mean…THESE TWO.

But here’s the thing about Pax:  he understands everything.

And Pax communicates his needs quite clearly.  It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly grab my face – with both hands – and point it in the direction he wants.  Often, I don’t even know how I ended up on the floor with my face in arm’s reach, but that’s kinda his modus operendi.  And the kid knows what’s going on – he’ll follow even my most frantic morning directions.  ”Pax!  Find your shoe!  It’s in the thingy by the door!!!”  Out of the corner of my eye, I’ll see his chubby little thighs wander over to the door and start picking up random objects, trying to correctly identify “thingy”.

This, BTW, is a more successful searching technique than the kind my husband performs.  Just sayin.

Anyway, it never occurred to me that his speech might actually be a problem.  Until the doctor pointed out that Pax should not only be saying many more words, but he should actually be stringing them together.  Speaking in sentences.

Yeah….no.  Not even close.  He’s a one-word kinda guy.

But still, I was hesitant.  Because…I don’t actually think there’s a problem.  And while I keep hearing, “it can’t hurt to get help!!”  I’m not sure that’s actually true.  Right now, Pax has no idea that anyone is worried about his speech.  He’s just progressing at his own, unhurried pace.  So I wonder…if we get some “professional” in, they’re going to….what?  Do what, exactly?  Be all like, “Pax!  Say ‘more, PLEASE.’  MORE PLEASE” over and over and bribe him with something until he catches on that YES.  Talking is a thing.

I don’t want it to be a thing.

My resolve, however, was tested over the holidays.  I was on Facebook, and saw an update from Lane.  Lane’s little one Vesper is almost exactly the same age as Pax.

Vesper: ‘There’s a eagle out there!’ Dave: ‘Good imagination! What’s the eagle doing?’ Vesper: ‘Flying by a mountain!’ Dave: ‘Oh really? Cool! Looks like you are actually picturing it in your mind!’ ::Dave turns around looks out the window:: ‘Oh wait, there is a real eagle out here. Actually flying by a mountain.’

Ok – this is funny on so many levels.  But I’m not gonna lie:  my mouth may have dropped open reading that opening line.

Stunned,  I go upstairs to share Vesper’s brilliancy with Mike, and witness the following conversation between Pax and Mike’s Mom (Gram), who is sitting on the floor, putting together some sort of racetrack:

Pax [pointing to one of the cars]:  ”Wed.”  (red)

Gram:  That’s right, Pax!  That car is red!

(pause)

Pax [points to the car again]:  ”Wed.”

Gram:  ”That’s right!  A red car!”

(pause)

Pax:  ”Wed.”

Gram:  ”Yup!  That car is still red.”

(pause)

Pax:  ”Wed”

Me: OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING NOOOOOOOOO

Ok.  So maybe we started to worry a little bit.  Neither of us (Mike or I) really acknowledged our worry out loud, but I noticed a slight change in our behavior.  Previously, for example, if Mike was eating, say, a cracker or something and Pax would walk up and point, “DAT”…we’d always clarify, “Cracker, please?”  That’s what we’ve always done.  And typically Pax would affirm our statement with a “YUP,” said in his deep little voice.  And that that was it.  Before, that was enough.  Sometimes Pax would even whip out a “pee?” (please) and we would be all “BONUS! OUR CHILD HAS MANNERS! INFORM EMILY POST!”

But now…instead of handing Pax the cracker….Mike was dangling it in front of him.  Pax’s ‘DAT’ was now being met with, “Pax, say CRACKER, PLEASE.”  I suddenly realize that Mike and I are both listening – with baited breath –  for his response.  And trying (unsuccessfully) to fake nonchalance.  Mike tries again:  ”CRAAAACKKEEEER….PLEEEASSSE”.  Pax stares back.  Then, verrry carefully he says, “YUUUUUUP.”

Well played, Pax.  Well played.

I do find myself getting all sweaty and uncomfortable around other parents sometimes.  Not all parents – not parents of multiple kids certainly, they tend to know better –  but parents of just one kid, one precocious kid.  Parents who don’t know kids that well, parents who certainly don’t know Pax.  I think they think something is wrong with him.  Mentally.  Between his one-word speech, his almost total refusal to answer anyone he doesn’t know, and the fact (and this is the WORST) that he mimics his brother’s antics…well.  I start to sweat.  I mean –  when a five year old sticks out his bum and pretends to fart and laughs hysterically….most people are like, “OK.  That’s a five-year-old.”  But when a two year old does it?  At the park?  And no one knows quite what he’s doing OR that he has an older brother at home AND he doesn’t otherwise talk…??

I see pity in their eyes.  PITY.  OMG.

PAX IS FINE!!! I want to scream.  HE’S TRYING TO BE FUNNY!!  STOP LOOKING WORRIED AND JUST LAUGH!!!!

And he is FINE.  Really.  Since his birthday, his speech is much improved.  His vocab has expanded dramatically, and he’s starting to use more than one word at a time.  Which is a welcome change.  For a while, he was firmly sticking to one-word sentences:

“Mom!” (waits for me to look at him) ”NAKE!”  (snake) “BEET” (big)

His “beet” was said with accompanying hand gestures so I can see exactly how big the snake is.  His inner world, his imagination, is out of control.  He’ll play for hours on his own, making his little collection of stuff interact.  It’s awesome to watch.

But the rest of this stuff?  That “speech” stuff?  It’s all in there.  I know it is.  I just need to have patience, and to trust my little guy.  It’ll come out when he’s ready, right?

Fingers crossed.

It never works, of course.  It just annoys everyone.  Raines, who knows me better than I’d like to admit, is on to me.  He knows something is up.  He knows I’m struggling with…something.  But neither he nor I know what it is.  ”Are you mad about something, Mum?”  he’ll ask.  ”No honey…Mum is OK”, I’ll reply.  He just looks at me for a minute.  Trying to figure me out.  ”Want to get married?”  he’ll ask.  That’s his thing right now:  asking me to marry him.  It never fails to make me smile, to scoop him up in a hug.  He’s been making plans:  ”Let’s get married on your birthday” he decides.  ”We’ll just need….” he thinks for a while.  ”We’ll just need one really long carpet, a vase of flowers, a poem and lots of humans in one room.  Simple!”

This little face is going to make someone very, very lucky someday.

All of this talk of marriage is my fault (not that it’s a bad thing).  I just know he’s feeling anxious, partly because of me, but also partly because he feels it too, this passage of time. He just (literally overnight) grew out of all of his jeans, and he’s been very focused on getting big.  ”Mum, how big do I have to be to play as much games as I want on the iPad?” he asked the other day.  I was in the middle of making dinner.  ”I don’t know…” I replied absent-mindedly.  ”I guess when you turn 18 and go off to college you can do whatever you want!”  (thinking that this answer might be exciting for him).  There is a moment of silence, and then I hear him crying.  ”Raines??” I rush over.  ”What’s wrong?”  ”I don’t want to go to college!” he says.  ”I want to stay right here WITH you!”  He is sobbing now, his whole little body is shaking.  I scoop him up and snuggle him on the couch, reassuring him that he can live with me forever, if he wants.

I mean it, too.

Well….not really.  I mean: YES, selfishly,  I do.  But most of all I want him to be happy.  And I know the hardest thing on a kid is when their parents aren’t happy.  Sigh.  I need to get my shit together.

Happily, Pax is oblivious to my funk.  He is too busy being a total pain in the ass (in the best possible, two-year-old way).  R never went through that, “The Terrible Twos”.   Pax, however, makes my head spin.  Actually, Pax makes all of our heads spin.  And even Raines can be counted on to try and appease the beast.  It’s pretty funny, actually.  I try not to pressure him, or make a big deal out of it when he does, but Raines can be pretty good at getting Pax to comply.   And is often the only one who can understand the little stinker.  ”Do you guys want to go out for bagels or croissants?” I asked the other day.  Pax shouted something incomprehensible   I repeated myself, “Bagels or croissants?”  Raines rolled his eyes, “Pax wants CROISSANTS, Mum.”  Really?  ”When he says, ‘GANCTK’ he means ‘CROISSANTS’.”  Oh.

But that Pax…he is persistent, thank goodness.  He’ll keep trying until I get it.  The other day he handed me a banana.  I peeled it, then handed it back, “here you go, buddy.”  Pax just stared at me.  ”Eat it!” I encouraged.

“NO!!”  he shouted.  ” NO! NO!!”

“Pax, I just peeled it for you!”

“DUN!” he screamed.  ”DUN!”

“You’re done?”  I ask, confused.  Didn’t he just…hand me…the bana-

“DUN!!!” he screamed again.  This time, he pointed his index finger at me, and started making “TCHOO TCHOO” sounds.  Dun?  Oh…DUN!  Of course.  He wanted the banana to be a gun.  Not a banana.

I got a really big smile from the UPS guy the other day.  I thought “well, alright!”  With my birthday coming up, it’s nice to know that I still look good.  Until I caught of glimpse of myself in the mirror…and realized that I had two frosting handprints on my face – one on each cheek.  LOL!

In general, life is good.  No, it’s better than good…it’s amazing, really.  Mind-blowing, heart-exploding, kisses-on-the-belly awesome.   Which is what makes it so hard.  When I have so much to lose, life feels so very tenuous.

In that vein…I’ve been letting Raines skip school.  He hasn’t felt like going, and I haven’t had the heart to force him.  It’s PRESCHOOL, I tell myself.  Who cares?  He has his whole life to “learn” to keep commitments, blah blah blah.  Besides, it’s flu season, and kids are dropping like flies.  So Raines has been at home with me and Pax for almost two weeks.  We’ve been doing…uh…very important and educational things.  Ahem.

But the best thing?  The very, very best thing?  Watching the brothers grow into the best of friends.  With Raines home a bit more, Pax wakes up, excited.  I’ve had to haul him out of the bedroom before he wakes up Raines.  Otherwise, Pax is all up in Raines’ poor, sleeping face: “Hand?” Pax will ask him.  ”HAND??”  This means, “Give me your hand, brother.  I want you to come and play.”  Oh, my heart.

Siblings are the best.

You’re a little cold?

Dad can make it all better.

What?

Apparently, he thinks.  And sort of struggles…to get his thoughts out?  Or rather, he just takes his own sweet time making his point.  He talks slowly.  A slow talker.

We stare at Lauren, digesting this little tidbit.  Mike clears his throat.

“Well….” he starts.  Thinks.  Then finally, “I’m not sure…I…really…don’t…see…that there’s actually….a problem…here.”

I can’t imagine where Raines gets it from.

Lauren (giggling) agreed that it probably isn’t a problem.  ”But he sometimes gets frustrated”  she noted.  ”Because other kids don’t always wait for him to finish.”

Mike’s all, “Story of my life, Babe” and I’m all WHAT??? WHO DOESN’T LISTEN TO HIM?  I WANT NAMES.  NOW.

But it gets worse:  Evidently, Raines walked up to a little girl in his class and asked her if he could play.   Know what that b*tch said?  NO.  SHE SAID NO.  To my baby.

Teacher Lauren was all, “Raines is so sensitive, and it’s soooo great because blah blah blah and the other kids who are just learning about empathy can directly see blah blah blah”  and I couldn’t really hear or even see straight because all I could picture was my poor little man, with his feelings hurt, at school, where Mum couldn’t give him a hug and make it all better.  Kill me now.  Kill me dead.

ps.  Emma or Evie or Ella or whatever your name was?  Yeah…see this kid?  This kid right here?

He is awesome.  Suck it.

Raines, taking a bite, makes a face: “Too much salt, Mum!”

Me: “Really? Oh no! Well…you know me and salt.”

R: “Yup. I do.” (Pause) “It drives me nuts.”

Aaaand THAT’s what I get for telling him his Hot Wheels were driving me nuts the other day. Sigh.

It’s like he’s 4 going on 14 sometimes. Why? Why so fast, R? Slow down, please. Your mum wants to be queen of your world for a few more years at least.