Blossoming

For me, as a mother, I am thoroughly enjoying this period in my children's lives. They're young enough yet to be "babied" upon occasion -- words like cuddling and snuggling still apply -- yet they're old enough to be articulate and to express their likes and dislikes.

One thing I have been keeping a subtle yet keen eye out for is any budding interest they might have in some kind of activity. In the fall, we took advantage of Aidan's complete lack of fear when it comes to public presentations and enrolled him in a short, six-week drama course which he enjoyed. Since then, he has gained even more confidence, and with his uncanny natural ability to project his little voice effortlessly, whether singing or speaking, he has both accepted and sought out opportunities to get in front of a microphone. He relished his performance in his school's Christmas Chapel program; he fully embraced his role as "Head Holy Angel" in his Sunday School Christmas program as well. And when the Christmas Eve service rolled around, and Don discovered they were short a few readers, he piped up, "Can I do it, Daddy?" If he continues to show an interest, we will continue to provide those avenues for him.

A new interest has recently surfaced for my boy, one which thrills me to no end, for unlike my absolute dread of being in the public eye (and therefore not sharing his interest in that department), this latest request is one that I can indeed share with him and honestly can't wait to do so if the opportunity arises. On Saturday, my nephew Steven celebrated his 6th birthday, so our whole family (at least those of us in this particular state) trucked over to his house for a party. He had received a Wii system for Christmas, and the cousins were very excited to set it up and show him how it works. As you can imagine, Aidan was right there, front and center. And out of all the sports games that came with the package, there was one in particular that he couldn't tear himself away from: tennis!

This is a sport I love, one which I have played for much of my teenage years and into my 20's. I haven't played in a long, long time yet the love and knowledge of the game remains strong. My eyes were glued to the screen, part of me wanting to jump up and take a turn, yet my dominating sense of self-consciousness prevented me from doing that in front of 15 other people. But what started out as entertainment suddenly turned into a kind of critical watching for me, for I saw that my boy had naturally picked up on some key elements of the game. Granted, it's just computerized and far from "real life," yet despite the fact that he has never played before, his timing was spot-on. He knew just how long to wait before he swung his "racket," and he was winning game after game. The more he won, the more confident he became, and by the time we made him turn it off he was flushed but beaming. I wasn't going to let that little exercise go unnoticed.

Later that evening, after we returned home, I talked to him about the game. He said he loved it, and asked if someday he could take lessons "to play for real." I couldn't help but smile, thinking that if this does work out, what fun times we can have together on the courts. That is, until it stops being fun to be seen in public with Mom.

Grace, too, is starting to blossom and take interest in certain activities. She too has a great attraction to the microphone and will snap up any opportunity in which she can perform in public. She had no trouble keeping up with "the big kids" in the Christmas program at church, singing her little heart out. In fact, during rehearsal at one point, she suddenly sat down and start crying. When the Kids Church director tried to comfort her and asked her what was wrong, Grace sobbed, "But I want a speaking part too like the other kids!" She was keenly aware that she was the only angel who didn't have a bit of monologue, and it stung deeply. And later on, at the same rehearsal, after singing one particular song as gustily as she could, the director told her to stop shouting. Shouting?! Grace was stunned, eyes wide with disbelief, and so very deeply offended. She wasn't shouting -- she was singing! She sat down and, once again, cried. Thankfully another teacher went over to her, gave her hug, and encouraged her to sing as loudly as she wanted to, for it was coming from her little heart.

Last night, as we watched The Nutcracker, we couldn't keep her -- or her brother either, for that matter -- on the couch. Both of them were dancing around the living room, doing their own versions of ballet that were absolutely hilarious, yet we dared not laugh. Their faces were very serious and they were clearly not trying to be funny. If we laughed, we would have broken that spell, and self-consciousness would have immediately stopped their valiant efforts. Grace was ... well, graceful, and the music was clearly flowing effortlessly through her little soul. I'm going to keep that keen, watchful eye out for her now, wanting to open doors for her when the time comes ...

Yes, this is a wonderful time in these little lives, and I truly hope and pray that we will be able to give them what they need, should they ever express in an interest in traveling down a particular path. Yet right now I have to figure out how to put up a road block on one particular path that they have mastered all too well -- squabbling with each other. Too much excitement, too much sugar, and a broken up routine have proven to make this Monday already a day of bickering. And we've got a long, long, long week of vacation to go ...