This Boy

I was planning to start this post with an explanation of why I'm giving up on the code names. But I don't feel like it. I just am.

Andre. My beloved boy. Oh how I adore him. One thing I, as many mothers before me have discovered is that raising a very active 7 year old can be kind of expensive. He does not go a day with out a grass stain on his pants, brand new jeans last maybe a week at best before the knees are torn, and shoes? Good heavens. I bought him a new pair of cross trainer type shoes for his birthday in October. They lasted 3 weeks until the sole was completely falling off. After research, it was determined that skate-boarding shoes are my best bet for taking a lot of motion with out falling apart.

These have lasted 8 weeks. None of the stitching or bonding has come apart but he wore straight through thick leather. What?

Oh, and he eats about twice as much as I do in a day. No joke.

He is the wisest, old soul one can imagine. I don't know how it was decided that I would get to be the older one here on Earth and act as his guide through his youth. He probably volunteered due to his sweet, patient, and kind nature. Sweet, patient and kind that is...UNLESS he is hungry or tired. I suppose that is for most of us, but if he hasn't had enough sleep or if he is hungry and there is no food to be immediately had, he shuts down and becomes very angry. Even then, he does not do anything horrible, but he if I ask him to put something in his room during one of these times, he will wail and gnash his teeth and stomp and twist and throw himself about. Luckily it still only takes him 15 seconds to fall asleep when he's really tired. I just have to get him to stop moving and its lights out.

With a new year, our children switch classes in their Sunday School at church. Andre's new teacher came up to Jason after church the first week and with tears in her eyes told him about how much love she felt for this child, how amazed she was at his insightful answers to questions she'd ask, and how at the end of the lesson, on his way out the door he stopped and softly said to her, "Thanks for teaching me." This woman, in her late 50s, also found me last week and, with a horrified look on her face asked if it was true that we are moving. I confirmed her fear and she again welled up with tears regarding Andre and how much she thought of him.

At a basketball game the other day, Andre's team (whom Jason coaches) was playing against a team with a coach named Pindegrass. His wife, apparently, teaches in the 1st grade. She is not Andre's teacher, but she noticed him on the basketball floor and began telling all the people around her what an amazing kid he is (she had no idea who I was).

He's an amazing boy and I'm lucky to be his Mom.