He’s not losing sleep over the sunglasses.

At February 10, 2009
By Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom
In Miscellaneous Blabbering, My Son, Parenting, Poop/Farts
28

He’s more pissed off on a regular basis about things like why he can’t have a million and five cups of apple juice in one day and our infernal, never-ending desire to torture him orally with that weird plastic stick that has bristles, under the guise of “keeping his teeth strong, healthy, and clean!”

But the sunglasses? Meh. He’s so over that.

And I just can’t help myself. I beg that no one gets offended, but I feel like I have to say, as per some comments on yesterday’s post, that Braden actually has not only 2 pair of sunglasses made to actually fit his face, but he has been given another pair of my old sunglasses to delight himself with. So, no worries, he has sunglasses to play with.

I hid the broken pair from him that night (after he tried to wear them with one side broken off and got a bit annoyed when they wouldn’t stay on), and he never even cared. I gave him the replacement pair a day or so later, and he happily put them on and ran around, no questions asked.

They are really manly, too. Silver Leopard Print, Baby. Yeah. (Of course, again, he couldn’t care less.)

Eh… uh… about yesterday’s post… the sunglasses per se really weren’t the main idea I’d intended for the article to focus you on, rather they created a situation that made my mind stretch a little and my emotions warble and dance. I wanted to share with you the little emotional jig that was being performed in my head and my heart… see if maybe you could dance the steps with me.

By the way (*huffs and puffs, theatrically*), I’m pretty good at figuring out how to fix the silly little things that my 2 year old worries about, in a practical way. Gimme a lil bit of credit as a mom, folks, dang. I’m not a TOTAL moron, really! (No, really. STOP LAUGHING BEHIND YOUR HAND. I CAN SEE YOU, DAMNIT.)

And no offense to anyone, cause I adore you guys (you commented, that means you gave a shit, and I adore you), but there is no amount of super glue or duct tape that could hold the metal/plastic together for long enough to withstand even 30 seconds of Two-Year-Old-Boy-Play. Braden can look at things hard enough to break them, sometimes, I swear. So that made me giggle.

So, anyway… I was just making some connections between this little thing and larger emotions and issues… painting a small picture that mirrors a large and complex one in the adult world?

Bah, sometimes a girl just doesn’t get her point across.

I should stick to fart jokes, right?

*poot*

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He doesn’t need rose-colored glasses yet; they’re built in.

These sunglasses have brought Braden great joy for the past few months.

When he first started playing with them, he was a little unsure of what to do with himself. He’d hold them up to his face, turn them, flip them.

Open. Close. Open. Close.

He would wear them on his belly. His navel was protected from the sun’s harsh rays as he spun in circles around our living room, singing.

More and more he put them on his face. Showing them off to everyone. Smiling, laughing. So proud of having them there.

Recently, he broke them.

An accident, really. He dropped them and immediately stepped on them before he could still his forward motion. I saw it happen. One of the supports snapped right off.

I wailed inside. My whole body simultaneously tightened and melted for him. I just knew there would be a complete meltdown.

I was wrong.

He sat down on the floor and delicately picked up the two distinct pieces. He was quiet. His mouth was a tiny, slighty open “o” as he sat there, brow furrowed.

He held them in his hands, looking at them, his face full of questions. *melting*

I bit my lip and I told him that I was so sorry, but there was no way to fix them. *tightness*

He just stared at me with his big, blue eyes. *melting*

I told him that they were broken, forever. *tightness*

He kept trying to piece them back together anyway. *melting*

There he sat, holding them up against one another… over and over again, because he just knew that eventually they’d be fixed again.

That is him right now.

The beautiful, innocent child, blissfully unaware that some things can never be fixed after they’re broken, no matter how hard you try to put them back together.

In my heart, I know that my jaded view is not the one I want.

I want to believe, like he does.

Moreover, I never want him to stop believing that.

Oh world, please don’t take this from him for a long, long time.

Maybe there’s time for me to learn to believe again, through him.