This boy of ours is something else (if you know him then you already know that). Maybe its like this with everyone’s first born– it feels as if they’ve taken all of your attention from the minute they first squinted their baby eyes in our bright world.
His daily dramas, high points as well as low, overshadow most others in our day to day life. But then in so many ways I notice his maturity and his ability to busy himself with his own work, and am so grateful for the time he has to do so. So many of his personal challenges are caused by others (and their rules) getting in the way of what he’s trying to do, that I sometimes wonder at all he could likely do on his own. Though I’m sure in a few years as a young adult we’ll see just that. He has, after all, wanted to be 30 since he was 3.
This boy of ours who finds such joy in music. He sings all day long. He has earphones in far too much of the time (imop). The sound track to our lives has become a medley of Top 40, interspersed, thankfully, by “Weird Al” (he’s so white and nerdy!), “Imagine Dragons”, and recently the new soundtrack to “Annie” (a pleasant addition).
This boy who wears his shirt backwards and inside out (for days on end if we’ll allow it) without notice or care. Who wears winter boots without socks in below zero weather, but will not swim unless the water is mid-summer warm. This boy who hides at the sight of blood, but has lofty plans to catch and skin a squirrel.
This boy who lays in bed for 30 minutes at least each morning, day dreaming. This boy who couldn’t tell the difference between an “awake dream” and a “sleep dream” until he was 8 yrs. old. Who spends much of his life in his head, and has only just recently begun to land in his body. A friend of ours who works in the the field of energy work recently commented on what incredible things Wylie will accomplish when he finally grounds himself and is able to bring forth all of what he knows ethereally. For now we marvel at what he seems to know inherently, yet cannot express in the left-brained fashion our society so often demands.
This constantly curious, lover of learning, who bemoans school work of any kind, finds handwriting painful and spelling a waste of time, yet reads history encyclopedias for fun and copies medical texts for handwriting practice–since he has to practice it somehow.
This boy who from the minute he could move has been actively seeking knowledge. Who will ask anybody anything if he wants to know it. Who will not stop asking until he has learned what it is he wanted to know. Who notices the power source, electrical design, and sound layout in most rooms he enters while others are noticing the color of the walls. Who can find what he’s wanting to learn online, and find a way to do it before I can wrap my brain around what it is he’s even talking about.
This boy who is so clever in the ways of wires and circuits. Who runs the sound system at our UU church one Sunday each month, in rotation with 3 other volunteers 50 years his senior.
This boy who is on the brink of teenagerdom, who is perilously close to the edge of adolescent angst, who is testing the waters of sarcasm and surliness. When we have the peace of mind to do it we savor each hand hold and snuggle, for we never know how few may be left.
This boy who watches me with my brother’s eyes, and in the next moment is such a little picture of his father I have to look twice.
This boy whose perseverance is admirable, whose creativity is unstructured, whose self-confidence is comforting, who in 11 years has taught us so much about parenting, about knowing yourself, about patience (to be sure) and about doing what you love. Oh boy.
What an amazing journey we’ve had parenting you. Thank you Wylie.