July 26: What happened to my son?

As providence would have it, I am writing this note while my son sleeps beside me. He is stirring a little, enjoying the gentle breeze wafting through the window, liking the feel of the cool pillow on his skin. He will sleep a while.

He is almost 18 months old. He walks now. Actually, he runs. When I take him to the park, which I do fairly often, my kid takes off as soon as his feet touch the grass.If I were to let him run free, he would probably leave the park and walk all the way down to the Dairy Queen. A regular David Thompson my son is.

What happened to my son?

Just yesterday he couldn’t walk at all. Just yesterday he would grab my finger for dear life whenever I put it in his hand. Just yesterday he would suck on my nose, fall asleep in his swing and could fit in the crook of my arm.

Today he has a full set of teeth. He likes to be held 24/7. His favourite things are watching Caillou, pushing his bubble mower and turning off my computer, preferably when I’m writing.

What happened to my son?

There was a time when he was so delicate that I had to put a hand behind his head everytime I picked him up. Today I can pick him up by the hands and toss him in the air. I can put him in his stroller and run him down the sidewalk and he will shriek with delighted laughter.
What happened to my son? That’s a question I will probably ask a lot over the years.

He will make friends, play soccer, go to school, develop interests, lose teeth, fall in love.

Today I am one of my son’s most favourite people in the world. If I am not number one, I am definitely in the top three. I will not be there forever, nor should I be. Today, he needs me for everything – I feed him, I change him, I play with him, I put him to bed. Tomorrow he will need me to drive him to school. The next day he’ll need me to drive him to work. By the end of the week, he won’t need me at all.

At the end of the month, I might start needing him to feed me.

My son is still sleeping. The curtains are rustling in the wind. My son stirs, grabs for something, falls back to sleep.

I can’t wait to take him to a hockey game, start showing him magic tricks and see if he has any interest in learning the craft.

My son is me and he is his own.


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