You will be four next month. You are my cuddler, my monkey, and my banana boy. I made a quick trip to the grocery store today to stock up on your favorite food so you wouldn't miss out. I can't count the number of times I have been awakened in the wee hours of morning with you holding a banana up in the dark asking if I could peel it open for you. When you are done, you get another one and we start again.
I see how you take favor on your brother and mimic everything he does. After all, he is your big brother. You look up to him as if he wore the crown of England atop his bright blond hair.
When you get mad now, I hear you yell, "I DON'T WUV YOU!" How do I explain that this is not how I pictured you learning from your big brother? It doesn't seem fair to you. I know it makes you sad when he says he doesn't love you when he is angry. When I tell you not to react the same, your eyes open wide with confusion and you ask, "Why Rowen say he not wuv me?"
Well, my sweet boy, you probably didn't notice how your big brother got a small drop of water on his favorite shorts yesterday and went into a tantrum, complete with crying and rolling on the floor and screaming how it was his worst day ever. You probably were playing with your planes when he yelled that he hated himself and wanted to die. You may have been digging into your Lego drawer when he screamed about how he was stupid because he messed up the letter "R" on his homework paper. You may have been squaring off with Darth Vader using your light sabre when your big brother said he stopped eating his lunch at school because he was afraid he would choke in front of people.
Or you may have been listening.
I don't know how this will affect you five, ten, or even fifty years from now. I know how frustrated you get now trying to make sense of it all. It breaks my heart to know you have to watch such things on the sideline, and what's worse, learn how you will act because of it. It is heartbreaking that we are here at all.
I love to see when you shine, like at preschool today when I got to read to your class and watch you go on a bear hunt with your friends. I loved watching you hold the hand of a sweet boy with Down Syndrome and help him into the classroom because you just might know somewhere deep inside that some days he might need a little "extra." Kind of like your big brother.
Maybe it's ok to be listening.
So if you have ever felt like a boy on the sidelines, I am sorry. You are never on the sidelines. You are my sweet Lane and I love you to pieces. I will always peel your bananas for you at six in the morning.
Love,
Mom
