Burger Boy

Three children in, and I still love the way that their quickly developing and amazingly adaptable minds stubbornly refuse to let go of one or two incorrect word pronunciations even when the rest of their vocabulary is fine-tuned and ready for high-level conversation. Well, high-level preschooler conversation at least, which admittedly doesn't get far beyond the bounds of farm animals and heavy machinery and snacks.

One of Luke's words - and still my all-time favorite gibberish word (look for it in my future novels) - was "lasterday." Why isn't this a real word? (I think he agreed with me, and that's why he kept using it for years.... )

Sarah still struggles with "girl" and "grill" - just last week, she ordered a "girled cheese," which immediately obligated me to order a "boy cheese" for Andrew.

And as for Andrew, I don't think I'll ever get tired of him valiantly professing to be "burger" - as in, he is a "burg" boy, and that is a "burg" truck, and I want a "burg" piece of brownie. It's best when it is drawn out and pronounced with deep conviction: "That's buuuuuurrrrrrg!" And I might just have to call him my little cheeseburger for the next twenty years. (Except that he would protest that he is not WITTLE - he is BURG.)

Now that we are developing something of a school-year routine, Andrew and I have enjoyed carving out our time together while the big kids are at school. After a summer of being totally spoiled by a big sister who's a lot of fun to play with, he took a few weeks to adjust to the idea that Mom was not nearly as fun (or as interested) when it came to dress-up and action figures.... But now he's gotten pretty good at wandering up to his room and surrounding himself with his small army of Schleich horses and Imaginext men and losing himself in the Land of Make Believe for a while. And he's crafty enough to know that if he gets lonely, he need only wander back downstairs and start pulling stuff out (preferably puzzles or games with lots and lots of pieces) for me to suddenly take interest in what he is up to. I can hear the sound of Small Things Being Dumped Out from miles away.

He doesn't mind running errands with me, or letting me take him to Chick-fil-a when I'm too lazy to make us sandwiches. We have had fun spending time with his friend Sydney, and one of these days I'll probably take him to the zoo or the museum - but I confess I'm holding off on that as long as I can. It's a bit like the reason I won't put quarters in the horsey-rides at the mall: as long as they don't know it's out there, they don't know they might be missing out! I'm such a good mom. (Ha!)

It's hard not to compare Andrew with the other kids - but not in a "measuring up" sense, just in a "Wow - they are all so different!" kind of way. Andrew fits in so well with our family, but he is also so very, very different from his siblings. He is surprisingly self-assured and naturally knows just how to stretch his face or move his body or flash those dimples in order to get whatever reaction he desires: a laugh, a hug, forgiveness, or just plain old undeserved mercy. Fortunately for me (unfortunately for him), I grew up alongside a brother who was also very good at using his cuteness as his most powerful weapon, so I would like to think I'm mostly immune to his wiles. Except when I see things like his school pictures, and then I'm so in love with this kid that I know he could ask me to fly to the moon for him and I absolutely would....

I also love the way that he perfectly balances being little and wanting to be big. Just like any other kid growing up in the shadow of older siblings, he is determined to be just like them in so many ways. Yesterday, I had to take Luke to the orthodontist, and so of course Andrew was with us - and no matter how many times I tried to tell him otherwise, I absolutely could not convince Andrew that he did not need to get braces. Luke doesn't either, for that matter, but even that fact would not dissuade him - we could only go as far as to agree that Andrew would not get braces today. If only he knew, he might not be so quick to grow up...

But then that same kid, who wants to be a Burg Kid just like Luke and Sarah and strives daily to prove himself their equal (often with physical fights, which he usually wins, being the toughest and the least concerned about consequences) - that same kid is never hesitant to ask to be held, and then to snuggle his little buzzcut head right up against my neck, happy to stay there forever, or for as long as these old mom arms can manage to hold him. Apparently, I often say how much I love his snuggles because recently he's started climbing up into my lap and murmuring in his most pathetic tones, "I just need to snuggle!" And you know he'll always get his way on that one...

I am not quite so sympathetic about another recent development of his, in which he attempts to get out of doing something or going somewhere by pitifully proclaiming, "I'm skeeeeeered!" Of course, the trick probably worked a bit on bedtime: we compliantly adjusted the lighting, negotiated for more songs, and often agreed to lay with him for a while so that he wouldn't be so scared of going to bed. HA. What kind of novices are we? You know he was just stalling! And yet it worked. So now we pay the penance of dealing with his "fears" for every other thing he doesn't want to do. Now he's "skeered" of preschool, "skeered" of the potty, "skeered" of the vegetables on his plate. He's "skeered" of his seatbelt and of picking up his toys and reading that book that he doesn't want to read. It makes no sense, but that doesn't stop him. In fact, last night, I was reading him a children's book based on Psalm 23, and when we got to the part that says, "I won't be afraid. Because my Shepherd knows where I am.... He makes me strong and brave," Andrew immediately cut in to say, "That's me. I need to be brave." I didn't say he wasn't brilliant.

I so love this kid. I'm glad he's never content to be a wallflower, and that he offers his affection with ferocity. I know he will always be "strong and brave," but that he will also proudly wear his heart on his sleeve and give his loyalty generously. And I hope he will continue to bring lots of joy to others and that he will always be so comfortable in his own skin - and that he will only use the power of his dimples for good and not for evil.