Wyatt is making connections that make me smile, laugh, and scratch my head. This morning, he was playing with Grandmama's Little People nativity set, pretending to hold intense conversations with them.
I took this as my chance to teach Wyatt about angels, telling him that God had given him a guardian angel who would protect him at night when he was scared like the other night during the storm. I then said his angel "protected him from himself." As if he understood, he said, "Yeah."
He continued to play, then held up a shepherd and said, "That not a monster. That an angel."
Huh? How did he make a connection between monsters and angels? I'm still scratching my head over that one.
Later in the evening as Doug kissed Wyatt goodnight, Wyatt looked up and smiled,
"You have stickers."
Doug rubbed his after-five shadow. "Yes, I do."
"Are you a cactus?"
At least I understood this connection, even though it was amusing.
Such a large, inquisitive mind, constantly whirring in that small body. I want to tell him to slow down a moment. Stop jumping, stop talking and let me hold him again before he's a teenager.
This little boy's mind and body tell him to go, move, think, connect. It's fascinating to experience. But I still miss the little boy who used to look in my face with wonder, memorizing its dimensions and smiling as he drifted off in my arms.