Growing Up

It might seem ridiculous to write a blog about growing up when your sons are only going on 1 and 3. Early on, when Sam first came into our lives, many imparted (more often than not unsolicited) parenting advice. Most of this advice came in the form of a warning that usually started something like, "Oh just wait until he..." Inevitably, the forewarned event would come and go without the accompanying doom we had been alerted to. By way of example, "Oh just wait until he (fill in the blank) starts crawling." Well, Sam started crawling and the world did not end nor did our days become nightmares. Likewise, "Oh wait until you have two..." Well, we have two now and while, admittedly, it is not always easy, it doesn't always send is screaming down the hall, tugging at our hair either (only sometimes).

Without fail, everyone warned us of how fast they would grow up. So much so that perhaps it made me hyper-aware of the passage of time and made me want to bottle and preserve every moment, even the ones where Peter was spitting up on my shoulder.

This is never easy. Especially now with so much momentum in our lives. I feel ourselves hurtling toward our future. We anticipate everything that is to come and plan for each eventuality. My classmates, many who haven't even arrived at their first post yet, are already speculating on their second post. Just get me to Brazil first. I don't have, nor particularly care, for this luxury. I am keenly aware that Sam and Pete know no other moment than the immediate present. The past is forgotten and the future is hypothetical, an imaginary construct Sam, at almost three, is only beginning to grasp, much less master. For them, I, too, have to stay rooted to the present. If, for no other reason, than because that is all they know.

Sam's behavior chart is going strong. Two weeks ago, as just reward, we went to Barnes & Noble and he picked out a new Richard Scarry book, What Do People Do All Day? I love this title, because it is something I've wondered to myself on more than one occasion. Either later that same day or later in the weekend, I found myself bored and Sam lying on the floor in his room, reading his new book. "Do you want me to read that book to you?" I remember asking him. Sam, who usually never, ever would turn down such an offer, responded, "No 'anks."

"Oh."

Visibly dejected, I slumped off. When we do read books together, oftentimes, he will snuggle into the crook of my arm. More recently, when we were reading books together one night before bed, I put my arm around him so he could assume his usual snuggle position. Sam demured, saying, "No 'anks, Daddy." :(

Slowly...so slow as though not even to be perceptible, yet irrevocably...Sam is growing up.

And yet, in this same Richard Scarry book, there are detailed drawings that he likes me to explain to him. For instance, there is a detailed, cross-section of a house being built, with all the plumbing, air ducts and electrical wiring and another detailed, cross-section of (of all things) a paper mill. When we first read the book, I described to Sam how the water came into the house and the cold water went into the hot water heater and came out as hot water that went into the bathtub and sink and went down the drain and back out of the house through the sewer. Same thing for the paper mill and the detailed, cross-section of the ocean liner (one of Sam's 'new' words). Now, everytime we read this book, he says, "Say this one, Daddy." He likes my descriptions of the inner workings of things I wouldn't even understand if it not were for this book better than the book itself.

I don't really know that much about stuff. For instance, does our massive apartment building have one giant hot water heater or lots of small hot water heaters? We never seem to run out of hot water here like we did at home. I try to teach Sam things, like that the American flag that we see flying everyone is "Sam's country's flag". (This might come in handy when most flags he sees might not be the American flag).

But, some day, I'll run out of things to teach him. He'll ask me why the sky is blue or how a nuclear submarine runs and I'll either have to admit I don't know or make something up. Maybe we will go to the library and figure it out together. Bittersweet will be the day he knows more than I do.

I think we'll have to get a set of encyclopedias so I can always stay one step ahead of him....and he doesn't grow up too fast.