It's the Little Things

[Karin Williams]

I’ve been a mother for six years, two months and 22 days. Most of those days have been pure awesome, but as any mother of a six year old boy can tell you, some days are a bitch. Six year old boys are special little creatures full of piss and vinegar, overflowing with fart jokes. They are dirty, smelly little animals that could take one M&M into a white room and have the entire thing covered in chocolate in under 5 minutes. Dirt and gross things are the specialty of little boys.

Lately, Aidan has taken his little boy routine to an all new level. he is exercising his mouth and pushing boundaries. Sometimes he’s allowed to pass, but more often than not he’s shot down. For instance, last Friday he was getting ready for school. I had laid his uniform out for him and was busy making his lunch.

“Hey Mom!” he yelled from the living room.

“Yo,” I said, sticking my head around the corner. He had his shirt and socks on, and one knobby kneed leg was pushed through his pants.

“I’m going to school SECRETLY COMMANDO.” he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat and giving me a huge wink.

“Um, no. You’re not going to school commando.” I replied, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. I could just picture it. The day I let him go to school sans underoos is the day he would have a terrible accident on the playground and everyone would know I sent my kid to school without proper coverings.

After five minutes of arguing, I finally told him that according to the school handbook, underwear was part of his uniform and if he didn’t put any on his teacher would have to write his name on the board – a punishment worse than death in Aidan’s world.

These episodes have been trying my patience more and more frequently lately, but then there are those teeny little moments that make dealing with all the boundary pushing worth while. Friday night we were driving home after bedtime. Aidan couldn’t sleep and started asking me questions about the headless horseman. When we got home he asked me to lay with him so he wouldn’t have any bad dreams.

I climbed into bed and waited while he prayed.

Dear God,

Please let me have no bad dreams tonight,

Please help mom get better,

Please help my tooth not to fall out.

In Jesus’ name.

Amen
He says the same prayer every night and he has to make sure he says it four times. Then he pressed his little forehead to mine because he believes that all the bad dreams will get absorbed into my head so he won’t have any. It only took a minute for him to start to relax….and when he did, all the tug-of-war-back-and-forth-push-my-buttons-bologna slipped away.

At least for one night.