My heart walks outside of my body

I'm trying to teach Wes that school isn't really that bad. As of right now, the mere thought sends him into a sufficient panic. I bring up the subject every once in a while....trying to be nonchalant about it. Here's a recent conversation we had:

Me: "Hey buddy, I went to school this morning!"

Wes: "Did you learn about airplanes and motorcycles?"

Me: "No....but I learned about China."

(brief pause for thought)

Wes: "China has panda bears."


My child just made an informed contribution to a conversation about a subject I had no idea he knew anything about. This kid slays me!! He turned the subject of the conversation from school to China. And he put forth what he knew about it. On one hand I find this surprising, but on the other it is perfectly in keeping with his personality.

Wes always tries to establish a common bond with whomever he is speaking...children and adults. I have noticed that with children, he offers encouragement and compassion. He doesn't have to be the best at something. He is quick to offer up a genuinely enthusiastic "Good job!" or an understanding "It's okay...accident's happen." I've been proud to witness him give an empathetic smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder to another child more than a few times.

He is equally at ease talking with adults and will sometimes even be the one to start a conversation. He makes comments about things he knows and listens closely about things he doesn't know. He lives to make people smile.

I love everything about this precious little boy. And like most parents, I don't tell him that enough.

I love how he comes over to me when I'm doing school work and wraps his little arms around me and says "Mommy, I just love you." His sweet little smile is more reassurance than I could ever have hoped to have in this life.

He rarely, if ever, complains. We have a morning ritual where he and my mom stand on the sidewalk and wave me all the way down the street. I roll down my window and wave until I make it to the stop sign and have to turn. I watch him in my rear view until I can't see him anymore. We've been doing this since he was an infant. My mom told me that yesterday as Wes was waving from his post by the mailbox, she could hear him saying softly "Why do you have to go to work? Why do you have to go to school? Why do you have to leave me?"

He doesn't yet understand that I ask myself the same questions every day.