I keep thinking that I want Isaac to be three forever. He's at a point now where he is developmentally on par with his peers, but he is so innocent. So sweet. He's also just a couple weeks from turning four. I know that as more time passes he will be less innocent. He'll learn to be mean on purpose- like the rest of us did. He won't be as fascinated by nature or the comfort of his teddy and turtle. He'll experience ugly things and remember them. He'll know that people die and that mommy isn't perfect and that our family is every bit as dysfunctional as the next. He'll be disappointed with his birthday. God willing, he'll watch us age and feel time move too fast. And that is life. Maybe he'll grow up and think that he is a little different and what that means. Maybe he won't be so different after all. Who knows?
In the meantime, I'm going to stop watching Mad Men on Netflix because it's not so different from facebook. And that's depressing. If you've seen it, then you know what I'm talking about. You're basically watching people's lives fall apart. I'm going to FINISH Jane Austen's Emma and be very happy about the gfcf dinosaur cupcakes I'll be making soon and the four candles that will sit on top. I'm going to relish the smile it brings to his face, and the knowledge that he will be excited for whatever we give him as a gift. I'm going to be grateful for every innocent moment and the fact that my son isn't growing up nearly as fast as I did- even if part of it is due to his pdd-nos. And I'm sure I'll be referring to this post as a reminder to myself of all my intentions of gratefulness and goodwill when he wakes me up much too early tomorrow morning, before coffee, and before facebook ruins any hope for humanity and happy endings. Here's to another year of my little boy waking me up.