Saturday, September 27, 2014

The baby doesn't want to be the baby anymore

The day this pic was taken, as we waited for his brother at the bus stop, he was crushing acorns with his shoes. He said they were babies and he wanted to see their bones.

The day before, he was playing with his action figures under the table while I was writing, and he had Loki having to prove to Thor and the other Avengers that he wasn't a baby and he could fight, too.

He's breaking my heart.

He tells me he can't do things because he's a little kid, but he's not a tiny baby. But he can do other things because he's a big boy. I tell him he can't always do what his big brother does, but he wants to so badly that he gets upset when he can't draw as well or climb as well or say words as clearly. He's almost four and he wants to be seven.

I barely remember being four. And even when I was, I was the oldest; I didn't have anyone bigger that I wanted so desperately to be like. When the big kids exclude him--which is a lot, since he's so much smaller than them--I tell him to talk to his mom about being the littlest; she was the littlest, too, when we were kids.

I want him to stay little. Who knows when I'll get to have a baby of my own, and even if I had one tomorrow, they'd be a different kid in a different situation, not him. And he's such a cute, sweet, funny kid with a weird streak that I adore, and a good temper for being the baby. He gives in to his brother too much, but he does it because he loves him so much he doesn't want him upset. He's a natural peace-maker, and he's imaginative and he's naturally kinder than the other two. Less competitive. 

I don't want him to think being bigger means being mean or rude.

I don't know how to keep him sweet.
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