1) Your sense of justice. You are indignant on behalf of schoolmates whose place in line is usurped, kids in the news who were bullied, and historical figures who were mistreated or misunderstood. Everything is black-and-white. Abraham Lincoln=good. Jefferson Davis=bad. I sometimes find myself trying to get you to see the other side – not to change your mind, but just to get you to see things from another perspective – but then I wonder. Maybe while you are learning empathy, I ought to be practicing the courage of my convictions.
2) Your sense of humor. I’m the mom who laughs at the knock-knock jokes of a 4-year-old. Partly because who can resist that face, and partly because I honestly find the non sequiturs funny.
“Butter golf clubs!”
But now you crack me up with stuff that I think would be funny to anybody, like in this recent exchange (Robin has just discovered that his mom’s GPS is cooler than ours):
“You know, my birthday is coming up.”
“Your birthday is in five months,” his mom answered.
“Father’s Day, then.”
“You are not my father,” and she went back to playing with the kids.
“Well, there’s got to be something coming up. Plus I need this feature and this and blah blah blah.”
At this point, Ben looked up, noticed that Robin was still talking, and said, “Who are you talking to?”
3) Your enthusiasm for learning. Riya came home one day this week and gave both Robin and me a quiz on Daily Oral Language. Our little grammar-geek-in-training gave us both pink stars. Karina was all excited this morning when she read the side of an ambulance: “Allina Medical Transportation. Hey, Mom! We are learning about transportation this week at school, and that says transportation!”
It warms the cockles of my nerdy, school-loving heart.
4) Listening to you sing. I especially love it when you sing along with the Kyrie at church, but hearing you sing Veggie Tales or “Candles” or “America” from West Side Story or Bruno Mars’ “Just The Way You Are” is pretty freaking incredible, too.
5) Everything, really. I mean, I could live without the whining, tattling, and the “Heeeyyyy. Stooooopppppp.” “Nooooo, youuuuuuu stooooooppppppp.” I wish I got to spend more time with you, when we could just be instead of always being on our way somewhere. But all that is nothing. For the last 8+5.5+5.5 years, being your mom has been the greatest blessing, and that has not changed at all.