In life, people come and go - but family always remains. Sometimes it's a family of blood, sometimes it's a family of friends that became stronger than blood. Whatever family you have, or how many, they always hold a special place in our hearts.
I don't know how many times I've asked my child to slow down, and I get a headache just thinking about how many more times it will be before he's grown. What makes this funny, in an ironic sort of way, is the amount of times I also have to remind him to speed up. This morning alone I spent 30+ minutes asking my child to get dressed and to do it faster, and then I spent this evening stressing that he walk slower. He was late for Kindergarten despite my best efforts, and then nearly face planted in the parking lot after dinner.
We've just started our sixth, and final (<crosses fingers>), week of a broken bone - and it's wearing on both of us. This little boy cannot slow down. It is an actual limitation of his, so long as he's not getting dressed. Week two consisted of him falling five, yes 5, times in as many days. I've gone so far as to start counting the days until his follow-up appointment. I'm done, and it's not like the silly sling has been doing any good anyways.
Children are little wonders of (mostly) joy. There are many frustrating moments, yet somehow when I look back at it all - all I can see are the good times. The morning snuggles, bedtime tickles, the little things that are only special to me. I look at that little boy and I can't help but smile, even in the moments when he's driving me nuts.
I'm thoroughly surprised that he made it to five before getting any broken bones, hell, he almost made it to four before requiring stitches. For a go-go-go little boy, that's impressive. I remember when he was just about to turn one, my grandmother and I started plotting to build him an Energizer Bunny costume. Sadly it's yet to come to fruition, but it remains the best description to date of my boy.
Growing up I would hear countless stories of when my Uncle was little. Many of these stories start along the lines of "Hey, do you remember that time when..." The ever popular was when he jumped out of a tree with a garbage bag primed and ready to go as a parachute. That day he broke his arm, he had also deduced that if he had just been higher - the bag would have totally worked.
As my boy gets older, I see a lot of the same kamikaze tendencies that my Uncle also exhibited. I'm scared, like any parent might be in my situation. I also know that my child will not lack excitement, and my family will not lack in stories to tell when he has his own family. He is a very loved little boy, and he's destined for great things. Here's hoping that he can achieve all that he desires, in as few pieces as possible, and that he continues to only be limited by his imagination.