There are moments when I look at the two wonderful humans I created and feel so lucky and so blessed to have them in my life. Walking into Dylan's room in the morning is such a sweet delight. He's always so happy and so full of smiles and laughs and personality. I love when he stretched his little arms toward me with the hopes that I'll pick him up. His kisses are slobbery, but sweet. His smell is still so much like a baby. His growls and facial expressions bring a smile to my own face. In those moments, I feel overwhelmed with the love that I have for this tiny little creature that took 9 months to make. And I know I'm truly blessed.
And Ethan, oh Ethan. His conversations are sometimes riveting. His growth amazes me. Sometimes I look upon him, taking in the length of his legs and the shape of his hands that are so like his father's hands. I cherish his smiles and his expressions and his thoughts. And I'm amazed at how big he's gotten and how small he was. I'm amazed that this little boy that once curled himself upon my chest is so big and so full of life. I'm overwhelmed with the thought that I could create something so beautiful and so independent. And I love him so much.
And there are times when I walk away from a conversation with him enlightened and inspired. His imagination is shocking. And I know that I'm responsible for shaping this child and ensuring that he is instilled with the confidence necessary to navigate a sometimes unforgiving world. I am truly blessed.
And so I'll end with a conversation that has been abundant in my house....
"Mom, when I create my brick robot, he will be able to make me perfect."
"Nobody is perfect, honey. It's not possible to be perfect."
"But my robot can make me perfect."
"Because when I'm thinking of sometimes, my robot will say, 'Ethan, if you're thinking something bad, stop thinking. If you're thinking something good, then keep thinking. But if it's bad, don't think about it anymore."
"Well, sweetheart, you still won't be perfect because you're human and human's aren't perfect. We can be good. We can listen and do the right things, but we still will make mistakes. We'll still have accidents. We'll still make the wrong decisions sometimes because that's how we learn and grow."
"My robot will be able to make me perfect."
I'm not sure how concerned I should be about his "perfect" obsession lately. I know it's a trait of gifted children, and I feel a strong responsibility to ensure that he understands perfect isn't possible.