This is probably not a surprise to anyone, but I really like words. All kinds of words. Words in books and songs and newspapers. Words spoken, words read, words sung, words thought. I like to read words and I like to write words. Words make me happy.
We’d been having fun, playing, laughing, tickling, when Simon suddenly became upset. And, as he does when he’s upset, he started grunting and moaning and not saying a thing. We’ve become so exasperated by this behavior that we’ve stopped trying to get him to talk and started waiting for it to pass. And when it finally did, he told us what was wrong. This was a huge breakthrough. Not only because we finally knew what was bothering him, but because he told us of his own volition. I loved those words, and even though they opened my eyes to my own mistakes, it was wonderful to hear him open up to us. I am so grateful for that.
Then, after the boys went to bed, Simon asked to use the restroom. While he was in there, Oliver asked for some water. He took a sip, then held the cup and waited for Simon to come back so he could share it with him. But Simon took a long time and Oliver got tired of holding the cup. We took it from him so he could go to sleep. When Simon came out of the restroom, we gave him the rest of the water in the cup and sent him to bed. And almost as soon as he walked into his room, Oliver started crying. And when he told us why, we nearly melted. He’d been waiting for Simon to come back so he could share the water with him and he was devastated that we took the cup (and his opportunity) away from him. Especially because, as he said, “We talked about sharing today,” (in nursery). We had thought he was asleep already.
I’m so grateful for those boys and their words. So grateful to know what they are thinking and why they are upset. So grateful to be able to help them when they need me. And grateful that they can help themselves with their words, too.