From the looks of my recent blog posts, I might be going through a little something or other in regards to Wito. I mean, I think I’ve written about him more in the past few weeks than I have in the past few years combined. I’m just so wistful about him growing up, and I feel like the six years he’s been with us have absolutely flown. If the next six fly as fast (and that’s all I hear these days…”next thing you know, he’ll be leaving for college!”), he’ll suddenly be a young man whose interests probably won’t include cuddling with me, holding my hand, or chatting incessantly about whatever his current obsession happens to be. (Two words for you. Lego Ninjago. Those spinner things have got to be the Cabbage Patch Kids of 2012. Nowhere to be found, I say!)
I read this post by Linda shortly after I wrote about my little absent-minded professor, and well, it just about slayed me to bits. “He is everything I rushed him to be.” Heart ripping out again, stomp stomp, you know the drill.
So! Let’s just say I’ve been watching a lot of old Wito videos lately. I found this one, and I can’t remember if I shared it with you, but it was shot the first week Wita was home with us. I look at teeny tiny Wita and marvel at how much she’s grown, but at 2 years old, she’s still a baby to me. Wito, on the other hand, has changed so much in the past two years. The round, fleshy cheeks are gone. The pudgy fingers? Gone. The staccato giggle is still around, but barely.
Last night, he sat next to me in my bed, and I showed him this video. However, I didn’t watch a second of it. Instead, I watched him watching the video. I studied every feature on his face – the light spattering of freckles on his cheeks, the little curve of his nose, the flick of his eyelashes, all in a desperate attempt to brand them into my memory forever. I know good and well that they will vanish too soon.
As the video played, he looked over at me pensively, and I just knew he was going to say something so profound. Something that would validate this moment, something that would bring all of my recent feelings full circle…I could feel it in my heart of hearts.
Instead, he asked me where the cup sitting on my nightstand in the video had gone because if I threw it away, I must not care about him at all. “MOM. That was my favorite cup, and I haven’t seen it in awhile. We got that cup at Disneyland, don’t you remember? You bought that cup for me! [tears are flowing] Are you sure it isn’t in the kitchen? Maybe you should go look in the kitchen. WHY WOULD YOU THROW MY FAVORITE CUP AWAY? I LOVE THAT CUP, MOM! PAUSE THE VIDEO! PAUSE THE VIDEO! I NEED TO SEE THE CUP CLOSE UP! WHY DID YOU GET RID OF IT? WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
It’s cool, time. You can keep moving at a steady pace.
(I would also like to direct you to the contents on my nightstand. Glass of water, prenatal vitamins, Purell, nipple cream, iPhone…if that isn’t the bedside table of a newborn’s mama, I don’t know what is.)