While snuggling before going to bed last night, Silas said, “Mom, when I was in kindergarten and even this year, all the kids say ‘Ewwwww’ when someone mentions kissing. But you know their parents’ kiss them. And, you know they are going to get married one day and they are going to kiss their husband or wife.” Davis interjected, “Not everyone gets married.” Silas responded with, “Yeah, but like 90% of people do, so they are going to kiss.”
Working REALLY hard to get enough snow gathered to make a very tiny snowman snowboy? snowpixie?
Persistence pays! This actually came together better than expected.
One boy takes 2 showers a day even though he hasn’t left the house in several days. The other rejoices and proclaims, “I have worn this same pajama shirt for two days straight!”
This year Silas wrote a lengthy letter to Santa. In his letter, he did not make any requests for gifts. Instead, he bombarded Santa with an abundance of questions. Much to Silas’s surprise, Santa responded to his letter, answering most of his questions. Silas found the response rolled up and tied with a ribbon, nestled in the limbs of his Christmas tree. He was initially curious, not understanding what the scroll was exactly. Finally, he untied the bow and unrolled the scroll, skimmed to the bottom of the letter to find that it was, in fact, an authentic letter, addressed to him and signed – Santa. We asked what he had received. He immediately raced into his room proclaiming, “You wouldn’t understand.” Silas needed privacy to read his letter. After finishing, he came back into the living room, letter in hand, and sat on the couch looking stunned, blankly staring into space, processing what had just happened. Eventually, Silas did let us read the letter. I am still not sure he knows what to think. He asked me what he should do with this surprise letter. I told him I wasn’t sure. So, he rolled it back up, replaced the bow, and tucked it back into the limbs of his Christmas tree.
Silas (As he is hugging me and rubbing my arm): Mommy, your skin is so soft. I wish I could take it make my own clothes out of it.
I didn’t have words for him. His sentiment was sweet, but the image of it all was a little creepy.
Mommy, I just love shoes. When people walk by, I always am looking at their shoes.
Davis turned 11 yesterday. Today we got an email saying he had “aged out” of the Kids Skate Free program. I really don’t like that phrase “aged out.” It sounds so much like he’s not a kid anymore. When I look at him sometimes, I see a boy on his way to manhood, an almost teenager. But then other times, I look at him and he’s a baby, so much to learn still. This year has been a year of changes for Davis. He’s grown so much physically. He’s as tall as me and wears the same size shoes. I can steal t-shirts from his closet. He has started to care about his hair, using hair gel and hairspray to make sure his style is perfect before leaving the house. He cares about shoes, jewelry, and name brand clothing. There were glimpses of all these concerns pretty early on, but now he is very passionate about making sure his appearance is just so. Davis loves baseball. He was the starting pitcher for his team this fall season. He loves video games but hates reading. He feels so deeply all the time it seems. He has a few close friends whom he loves and wants to spend every moment with. He says he doesn’t like girls, but I am not sure I believe him because of the smirk that appears on his face when his friends are talking about certain girls in his class. This year, we chose not to have a party. Davis wanted to go to Great Wolf Lodge instead. It was the perfect weekend of waterslides, MagiQuest, ice cream, pizza, and trick or treating around the hotel. I sometimes wish I could make time stand still but then I am reminded that every season is special and unique and that it’s best just to enjoy every aspect of it while it lasts.
Davis has decided he wants to learn to play the drums and the guitar. He also wants to be a singer, professional baseball player, real estate agent, and a millionaire.