SONNY Jim was two yesterday. TWO.
And while he is (pretty much) hitting all the necessary milestones… walking, talking (though not as much as some, admittedly, one of his pals can count to ten!) building towers, using a spoon and so forth, these “achievements” are not the things I want to remember forever.
When he’s grown and busy building a life of his own, I don’t want to forget the fact he was once obsessed with his breakfast bowl. That he’d walk around the kitchen with it for about five minutes before you put his cereal in it. And then when it was being washed up that he said, “bowl bowl gone!” and “bye-bye bowl bowl” when you put it in the cupboard.
I don’t want to forget that he loved balls, or ANYTHING that he could “roll-roll-roll”. Or the way he would say, “oh dear.”
I don’t want to forget that, when he was tired, he would once come and sit ON me, (not by me or next to me) and suck his thumb, while holding my thumb in his other hand.
I don’t want to forget the ridiculous screwed up face he does, that he thinks is smiling.
I don’t want to forget that if anyone left a dolly on the floor at playgroup, that he would pick it up and bring it over to me to be put safely on a chair.
I don’t want to forget that he called lights “goks” and demanded they were turned on or off continually. Or that, when asked, everything was always blue. Or the way he liked to sit so close to the washing machine that sometimes he vibrated along with it on spin cycle.
I don’t want to forget that he did great Eskimo kisses, that he loved swings, that he would get up in the morning, find his boots, come and take me by the hand and say “boots, go-go-go” and then cry if we didn’t leave the house immediately.
I’m sure, each new year will bring new Sonny-isms. And I’ll love them too. But right now I wish I could press pause.