December
16, 2003 - Tuesday
Harry is four and he is a boy. Like a little boy, he is often loud and sometimes
obnoxious,doing silly things 
and
almost constantly making silly noises. Often times these days, I'm reminded
of an offhand comment a cousin made at a party a couple of years ago where
there were a lot of young kids running around, many the age Harry is now.
He said he loved kids this age because they can be so "completely crazy,"
meaning so free with their imagination and so uninhibited by convention. I
disagreed with him then and the left side of my brain, that side that thinks
logically and logistically, still disagrees with him now. Harry's like
that sometimes. But, I do so love this boy.
Increasingly
now, Harry is reminding me of pieces of my own childhood. I know a lot of
kids do this, but I used to like to lick the candles and I can still remember
trying to eat the frosting but not the cake
.
I guess as I got a little older I ate all the cake out from the center first,
carving it out from the F shape of the frosting thus saving all the frosting
for last. I look at Harry deliberately choosing
which candy to eat from his bag and I remember doing much the same. And when
Harry is introverted and solemn, I remember that, too. That's not to say that
I want Harry to be like me; indeed, in many ways, perhaps most, I do not.
Yet, the little similarities are charming and help remind a parent what it
was like being a child.
But, that's
not why I love Harry. I love that he's interesting and interested. He likes
stories, trains, puzzles, drawing, balls, and cars and all kinds of things
that little boys usually like, but I love his intensity. 
I love that he likes stories that are more complicated and in depth, and not
at all because they're most interesting for an adult to read (because I love
reading to Jeremy, too, with the same short and simple books as I once read
to Harry), but because the longer stories ultimately expose more of Harry
mind. I love that Harry is excited about learning to read himself and to write
his name, even if he's sometimes coy. I love that, aside from the silly
word games they play ("Jeremy, am I nice?" "No" "Jeremy
says I'm not nice.") and aside from the occasional normal sharing issues,
Harry is a wonderful big brother. The boys play together a lot of the time,
and Harry's general very good to Jeremy. I love when he's happy, which is
often, although I love, too, that he can also be pensive and reflective. I
love that he's surprisingly (to us anyway) smart and aware of that which is
around him. I love that he knows directions in the car. I love that he remembers
and reminiscences about things things we've done and places we've been. I
love when I see him trying so hard to a kind boy, even while the mania of
four can make him seem otherwise. And mostly, I suppose, I love mostly him
just because he is my son and because we have so intimately share four years
together with both of us struggled to teach and learn from his other.
A couple of weeks
ago Harry was trying to get my by feigning frustration and begging "can
you help me?"
I explained how asking nicely would be a much better way to have people want
to play with him. Now, we hear a constrant and very polite stream of "dad/mom,
did you want to play [this game] with me?" It's annoying , I suppose,
to hear anything over and over again, but it's a marked improvement from the
old way. And, the thing is that, were adult life not in the way, it would
be wonderful to do things with Harry all the time because he is such a curious,
intelligent, fun, little boy.
Comments, Opinions?
