Sonny turned two last week.
Last Tuesday in fact.
I have not had any really big "mom" flip outs I think.
I don't think that I have, maybe I've been flipping out this whole time, and everyone around me has just been really kind and kept quiet about it and just kept an eye. You know, in case I got really weird.
But to my mind, I think I've been pretty reasonable.
I understand that he's not going to be my tiny baby forever. He's already this big kid with his own VERY clear ideas of how things should be, and he's now starting to Push The Buttons.
And I know that this is healthy and normal and he should be doing this. He needs to push and push and push until I snap, so he knows where the line in the sand is.
And in my head, I get it.
And I thought that I would handle it all in stride, because I think that I've been pretty mellow so far.
(again, perhaps an outsiders perspective might be different!)
But today we were at a friend's home where there were a lot of other kids of various ages playing, and it was great. There were older kids and younger kids and Sonny happily trooped from one activity to the next with no problems.
Until.
A little boy, about his age, who was energetically playing with his older brother, running up the stairs and jumping down again, gave him a little push.
I saw it happen, and it was just a little shove. Totally no big deal.
But Sonny has never really had to deal with another toddler who played in a different style, and had no real idea of how to react.
He came over, and quietly said "Boy. Push mama."
"did he push you?"
"yeah."
"do you want to sit with me for a minute?"
"yeah."
And he climbed up onto my lap and we had a quiet minute or two while he watched the other boys playing, and then we had a quiet conversation about how the other little boy has a big brother and they are playing with a lot of energy, and how it's ok to play different ways.
He took a minute to snuggle, and then off he went playing again.
Fine right?
But a few times over the evening it came up again, "Boy push, Sonny mama"
"I know buddy, sometimes that will happen. Sometimes you will be the boy who pushes."
And I don't know if I am really just starting to let it settle in that he is not a baby any more, he's a little boy and he's figuring out what that means. And now I have to figure out what it means to let him be a little boy, and let the word affect him and let him affect the world and I just want to wrap him up in my arms and hold on tight and protect him from EVERYTHING.
And recognize that I can't do that. Recognize that I have to let him go out into the world and that it's far better for him to.
But it is breaking my heart and I have had quiet tears through dinner and I am realizing and accepting that I am going to be the mom who cries, and that he's going to roll his eyes at me, and hopefully give me a squeeze before heading out with his friends knowing that his mom is a bit ridiculous and a wet hen and that I love him.
And he will be totally ok.
But I will be awake every night until I hear him sneak in way past curfew, and I'll let his friends crash at our house so that we know everyone is safe, and I'll cry over every little thing.
Of course I will.
I'm crying right now!
Or maybe it's all just hormones and I need a chocolate.
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