Hey my Scott (aka: Scott-a-lot, Scott-Scott, Scotty, Tiny Bear, Little One, Mighty Hero, Tiny Child, Treasure, Little Lamb, Scottabolletjie, and, when you’re sick, Snot-a-lot and Pukémon. I promise not to call you all these things when you’re sixteen.)
You’re snoozing, Dad is out on his bike, I’m typing this on the deck and hoping the barbets will come for the banana we’ve left for them, and Cam is intently scooping sand into Lola’s water bowl.
I thought I’d record here some of the events of this past week, leading up to the momentous occasion of you being one month short of a year.
You’ve had some weird, long-lasting virus. Wow. So much vomit. So many biohazardous nappies. So little sleep. But you’re better now, thank God. You were super brave and still super cute, despite being miz and sick.
You’ve been a Heavenly Baby for just over a week now, though I’ve kept you at home every other day because I’m on holiday. You really love school! I can’t believe how incredibly settled, calm and content you are. Quite the independent little fellow, quietly taking it all in your stride. Of course technically you don’t really have a stride yet, though you’re standing on your own for a couple of seconds, now and then, and you’re starting to negotiate crawling downstairs.
You won’t remember much about Cam at this age, so I’ll give you some details of his week, too. You will have read about his EUA last Friday. The fact that his biggest concern about the whole procedure was that he was going to miss his hotdog at Heavenly Tots (Friday is hotdog day) will tell you something about his courage, and his priorities.
He’s doing swimming lessons twice a week. I think if it were possible to harness his excitement in the pool it could probably power small household appliances. Dad and Granny came to watch him in the pool this week – big hit. You are kind of freaked out by the pool and you cry every time someone jumps in. Never mind; I’m sure you’ll get over it.
Cam is also really into specifics. Aunty Manty did OT with him on Wednesday, and they’re working on drawing vertical lines (‘trees’) and horizontal lines (‘tables’). Cam wanted to know, ‘Must I draw a coffee table or a dining room table?’
Dad took leave on Monday and Tuesday. While you were sleeping on Monday morning and Maria was watching you, we went down to House of Coffees for breakfast. It was raining – the first rains of the spring – and it reminded us of Kendal in the Lake District, where we lived just after we got married. So strange to think that back then we had no idea who you would be!
I’ve blogged before, I think, about the five prayers I pray every day for you and Cam. One of them is for your education, and that one has been resting quite heavily on our hearts this week. Dad and I visited a couple of amazing schools on Tuesday and are wrestling with the decision of which one will be very best for you and Cam. What a blessing that we’re living in a city where we’re spoiled for choice, and that despite Cam’s evident special educational needs, there are mainstream schools that are so excited to welcome him, and you.
Yesterday we went to the Hazelwood Fire Station with Aunty Kirsty, Ben and Kyle. Cam was kind of grumpy and blasé about the fire engine, but the picnic afterwards and chasing Ben and rolling in the grass – now that was cool. You and Kyle, gentle little souls that you are, just cooed and smiled and had snotty noses and got yourselves full of grass and chewed on things you shouldn’t, like firemen cigarette butts. Eew.
Just so you know, Dad and I continue to pray for you and Cam every day and we know God’s hand is on your life. We pray that you would come to know Jesus soon, and that even now you would sense his presence and his peace, and that your little heart would start to recognise the tug of his Spirit.
I can’t believe you’re nearly not a baby.
All my love,
Lola, sheepish after getting herself lost for half an hour at St Alban’s on Thursday afternoon. She had Ross, Tracy and me tramping across the entire campus…
Teacher Cam’s ‘painting school’, which he set up in the bath. Here he was just waiting for all the (imaginary) children to arrive, so that he could begin teaching them to paint (with water and a toothbrush)