ALMOST

I just don't think I can gamble on this. Before we got married, I told I, Rodius we were NOT going to talk about having children for at least 5 years. And we didn't. Then five + more years passed (with some discussion) before we decided to see what our combined DNA would produce. And he's just amazing. Perfect. Okay, so the doctor today says tight Achilles tendons may be the reason he walks on his toes half the time and he may need PT, but he's still just utterly mind-blowing.

Last week sometime, Thumper wanted Mama to wear his bike helmet. He likes to get others to put things on their heads. Almost anything can be a HAT. The helmet has straps with buckles and Thumper is very aware of the importance of BUCKOS (seat belt, high chair belt, etc.), though his PENGOS (fingers in this case, but also penguins) struggle to make the buckles work. So, we were practicing. I'd encourage the boy to keep trying, telling him he almost had it while trying hard not to help him too much. Yay! Good job! when he lined the two pieces up. And we'd start all over again. ALMOST, ALMOST, he'd say, squinting and focusing on getting those two floppy pieces to fit together.

Saturday, I made some vegetable rice. Rice is on Thumper's Top 10 List Of Things I Won't Refuse For Lunch. But, it's a really messy food to hand to an 18 month old. Regardless, rather than taking the clean route and feeding it to him, I put it in a bowl and handed the boy a spoon. He took the spoon and began chasing the rice around the bowl, telling himself ALMOST, ALMOST until he got a few grains onto the spoon and into his mouth. How the @#$%^ does he do that? How does he make these connections so quickly? Maybe this is old hat to you Two-And-Three-Or-More-Kid parents, but I'm just blown away. He gets the concept of almost....

Back on to that schedule of acceptable conversations, though. I, Rodius and I decided not to discuss a second mini-me until the first was at least a year or so old. Biological clock ticking and all that crap, the longer we wait, the more chance of complications or issues. My 36 year old ovaries aren't getting any younger. But I, Rodius had the boy saying SISTER to me tonight...

Life is ALMOST perfect. I shouldn't gamble. I'm really not that lucky and history dictates that the proud often fall. I'm shamelessly proud of our perfect little boy and terrified of losing that. I don't deserve what I have now....what happens if I ask for more?