It's not all that uncommon for Isaac and Brady to play together, but when Abby joins in, it's something special. I suspect she spends a lot of her time feeling like her partner in mischief is missing, so when she lets her guard down and plays along and enjoys the Little Boys' company with such gregarious sincerity, my heart rejoices.
Brady and I attended our second birthday party of the weekend this afternoon. Unlike yesterday, he decided that he wanted to play laser tag, and I think he had a good time: every time he took aim at someone, he gleefully exclaimed I got you! I got you! and then let out an equally gleeful guffaw.
I was tired as I drove him toward the party and desperately wanted some time to just be by myself, but I took a deep breath and pressed the reset button, and I think we both had fun. I got to watch and listen to him playing with his buddies again. We both got to try out laser tag. (I'm atrocious at it, in case you wondered.) And I wound up with a pretty nice photo of both of us. A blessing, despite my initially less-than-stellar attitude? Yep.
I've said it many times over, but it's such a blessing and a pleasure to watch him play with his friends and have a good time. However, it's also a blessing to be reminded that he still needs his mama sometimes. When the other kids went into a dark room to play laser tag, my little muffin tightly gripped my hand as he declined his invitation to join them. So though I love that he's comfortable enough to play on his own with his friends, I also love that I can still make him feel comfortable and secure in the face of uncertainty.
I love how it feels to sit with him, maybe in part because I'm keenly aware that he's my caboose and the days of him wanting to sit in my lap under a blanket are probably more limited than I'd like, but also because the little moments matter so much. I love smelling his hair and admiring the tiny freckles that dot his cheeks and leaning in close as I listen for the steady thump of his heartbeat. It's all such a gift.
This morning, after we emptied a box of cereal, Brady asked if he could have the box. I said sure, so he grabbed it and a pair of scissors and scurried into the family room. A few minutes later, he showed me this:
The Trix box, starring... Bear Bear.
I laughed, and then found myself musing who DOES that?!, which was something of a silly question since duh, apparently my kid does that.
Anyhow, it was just a silly, lighthearted moment. But Heaven knows I need those, especially during this time of year, so I'm thankful.
He loves baseball. The process of getting his team assignment figured out and nailed down was a complicated one, but as I watched him gleefully fielding balls and running the bases, somehow, all of the bad feelings and the drama faded away.
And they faded away even more when, as he ran from second to third base at one point, Abby and Brady --who were perched next to me on the bleachers-- began shouting Go Isaac! Go Isaac!. Hearing them support their brother is an amazing thing, and watching him kive out one of his passions is, too.
It took me all of about a quarter of a second to zero in on his name tag: Logan. I was so distracted by the sight of that sweet, familiar name that I completely tuned him out as he recited my order, so he wound up having to tell me twice. (Oops.)
So yeah. Seeing that name, those five letters all strung together, gave me a perfect little jolt of joy.
