But in other ways he is so a boy now, and not a little boy but a big boy. He's tall with that wonderful gangly look that boys get. He swims like a fish, and last night with his black Speedo goggles, he looked bad! He fights constantly with his sisters. He hates when they knock over his Legos, or mess up his Star Wars figures ("It's hard to have two sisters!"). He sword fights with light saber sound effects. In fact, he, like most boys, is a sound effect extraordinaire as evident when I read him his new comic book last night. When he gets mad at me or embarrassed, he rolls his eyes in the most obnoxious big boy manner. But he balances that with his sharp and witty sense of humor. He cracks jokes with eyebrows raised and a knowing look in his eyes.

Now is the time when the letting go begins. It is painful to release him slowly to the world. A hostile world. I realize I can not protect him from everything, and it angers me. I am angry when I watch people treat him differently because he is brown. I want to smack people who comment on his gentle nature (he won't fight which is a source of pride for me) as if it somehow makes him less of a boy. I want to shield him in my arms forever but that can not be done, and I am learning to let go a bit each day. I still have these mornings when his fuzzy head lays against my leg, and the nights when he curls up in my lap. I still have time to give him hope, to teach him courage, and to reinforce his already gentle nature.

My son is seven. My only son. Mi bebe.
2 comments:
Happy birthday to Umberto!
This is a good time to tell the mother of this most lovely and loved child how immense a joy you gave us with his coming to the world. It xas violent for it was unplanned, unforeseeable. His arrival was the most extraordinary event, the most overwhelming I can remember. I am longing to hold him in my arms again. Nuestro niño.
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