I can't believe that was nine years ago.
It no longer feels like yesterday, exactly, but it also feels like... well, not like nine years. And if this is what nine years feels like, then I can't believe I only have nine left. He's halfway out of the house! Which is not a ridiculous mental milestone at all so bite your tongue.
Today* he's a full-on big kid, doing big kid things, like reading Harry Potter himself. (Yes! Novels! He reads them now!) (Sometimes!) (He still would choose a biography or fact book nineteen times out of twenty.)
*Well, today today he is not doing any big kid thing or reading any books, because he's battling down a barf bug as I type this. Having a big kid means that when they're sick, you sit ten feet away at the computer and listen to them dry heave while you write a blog post about them. It's both easier and harder than having a sick baby.
(Oh who am I kidding. It's totally easier.)
He's a good sick kid though. He's rull pukey in general when he's sick, so he's kind of a champ at it by now. If one of the kids has to be barfy, I'm glad it's him. Which is a weird thing to say about him at this milestone juncture, but it's organic to our day, so, there you go.
Besides A+ barfing, which I feel like I should stop talking about now, Nathan is doing really well these days. I was told that eight would be as good as five, and I think maybe it has been. Eight is much less moody than seven, and much more helpful, and much more worldly.
He needs me less than ever, but when he does need me, he needs me bigger. If that makes sense. When we do encounter rough patches, it's not about whining or potty training or grabbing anymore, it's about honesty and sneakiness and work ethic and bullies and the balance between fitting in and being doggedly confident in who you are. Raising tiny humans is no joke, and we are constantly flying by the seat of our pants, especially with Nathan, because the oldest kid is always throwing stuff at you you didn't even know you didn't know, didn't think of to think about. Parenting: not for the faint of heart.
He is still doing great in school, although he's right in that space where from a teacher's perspective he is fiiiiiiine and doing his work well enough, and not causing trouble, that he flies under the radar a bit when he's not doing his best, because it's still good enough. So we have had a lot of conversations about not half-assing his schoolwork, and not rushing to be done, and not practicing only the parts he already knows just because they're more fun to play, etc etc etc. How do you teach an eight-year-old the intrinsic value of hard work, especially in a reward-saturated world? That's not rhetorical, I'm really asking. TELL ME IF YOU KNOW PLEASE FOR REAL.
He has a handful of good kids at school that he buddies around with, and a handful that make me purse my lips, which I assume is about normal and will always be the case. He goes to a super diverse school, so he has friends from all continents and many religions, and is becoming a person who knows how and what to ask people about their heritage, his cultural curiosity unstifled by the fear of being offensive, because he is in relationship with all kinds of kids. I've admired him several times when, for instance, he sees the Asian man playing as a guest violinist from church, and he is happy and friendly to walk up to him and ask him about his instrument, or if his family is from Korea or another place in Asia - and what unfolds is a perfectly natural conversation that isn't about race but also doesn't shy away from it. He takes in stride that some of his Muslim friends pray several times a day during school, or that his Sikh Indian friend wears a turban. He just... casually knows a lot about a variety of things, as we all do about our friends, I suppose, but it's so cool that he lives it and is growing a kind and nuanced language for something we, as a culture, struggle to do, or at least to do well. The kids are all right, as they say. (They give me hope.)
His favorite school work is science, for sure -- he is curious about the world and nature and animals and astronomy and matter, and loves being able to build some tool or model that will help him test an idea. He also does math extremely well; I kind of can't believe how quickly his little brain can grasp a new concept and be able to apply it. He still likes to read a lot, but mostly for fun; it's not something he seems to want to push himself on. He likes writing stories but prefers... reports. "This is an informational text about x," he tells us on the reg. (It's usually a historical ship, or an animal; yesterday, it was a commodities report about how some virus is affecting coffee beans and the world might be running out of coffee; this is information he thought I would like to know.)
He loves legos, if anything, even more than he has in the past. He is less and less married to the idea of keeping his creations together as they look on the box, and increasingly into making his own designs, or replicating designs he sees in the real world. His need to build things extends beyond legos and now includes a variety of trash, which he raids from the recycling bin, and I am constantly having to gently* urge him to remove the coke can boxes and coffee cans and Gatorade bottles from his room, where they are inevitably taped to each other and to rocks and strings and folded paper, because that's a dinosaur habitat/ ship yard/ new solar system/ airport/ lemur rescue center DUH MOM CAN'T YOU SEE I NEED THAT. (*What, I try.)
Nathan is so independent and helpful at home; he's definitely the chore workhorse of the three kids, and helps his sisters and both Mark and me, so much. He fixes his own breakfast and packs his own lunch (and often helps the girls with both those things) and fancies himself a budding master chef, so he loves to help with dinner too.
He loves his cello and his choir at church, and he loves running. The big kids do a track club every Friday morning before school, and he often gets a couple of miles in, which impresses me. He's also become quite a fast swimmer this summer, which blows my mind a little. Two years ago he couldn't swim at all, and now he's one of the fastest in the pack at his swim meets. He just looks like a swimmer in the water; it's the most athletic thing we have ever seen him do, and it's fun to see him grow in confidence with it.
He's still one of the smallest in his grade, less skin and bones now that he is getting stronger, but still just... short. We've been saying for over a year now that he's due a growth spurt at any moment, but it keeps not coming. So.... yeah? Any day now? I guess? Or maybe never.
He loves minecraft. He films himself talking to the camera for his "youtube channel, please subscribe!" (which is locked to everyone but him, but he can dream of his internet superstardom if he wants). He sends lovely heart-feelings texts and emails. He has a teenager voice he uses to talk on the phone. Has spent the year obsessed with Pokemon, so the current GO trend is blowing his mind and providing some good Daddy-kid bonding time to be out exploring. He plays fine alone but still clings to attention from Anneliese, which often wanes these days, because of Charlotte's equal demand and more interesting (to her) playtime ideas. He is bossy and firm and kind and generous. He remains sensitive, and is easily hurt and offended. He saves his silly side for people he really trusts. He is ever more self-assured, and no longer scared of real conversation with new people, even adults. He is polite and witty and full of fun! facts! and loves studying the giant world atlas that hangs over his bed.
He is a wonderful person, and now I need to go wipe his face with a washcloth and scratch his sicky back and offer him some ice chips. (He's patient zero. Pray for us.)
We love you, sweet Nathan. Happy due date, you excellent human, you.
No comments:
Post a Comment