My Cam,
This mad birthday week – you then Dad then me – kind of
wipes me out (in a good way) because there’s always too much cake too close to
Easter when there was too much chocolate but the wonderfulness of birthdays
feels more wonderful to me every year and I didn’t want your 5th one
to pass without a blog post though I should probably be marking UNISA
assignments which will hopefully pay for the car to be fixed as it’s still in
the Eastern Cape and what I definitely should not do is have more caffeine.
I find myself staring so hard at you lately. I want to
remember you just as you are – your dark intense gazing into life and your
crazy silly spinning and giggling and your freckles and the way your hair
stands up in the mornings and your angry tantrums and your lidless exuberance
and your tight tight tight hugs and how you say random, amazing things with
professor-ish eloquence and how often you tell me how much you love me.
Just for your record, here are some of the super cool
things you’ve said or asked over the past couple of weeks:
*
‘Now that I’m five I’m a tiny bit further from the floor.
And the tiles look smaller ‘cause I’m further away from them.’
*
‘Mom, if we were playing a baby Jesus game, what gift
would you give him – gold, frankincense or myrrh?’
*
On holiday, Dad took you for secretive slow drives
through dark valley streets hoping to see bush pigs before bedtime. One night
you said, ‘Dad, I have a message from Jesus in my heart. He says we mustn’t
look for the bush pigs because they are scared.’
*
‘Sometimes my eyes have a disability.’
*
‘What does integrate
mean?’
(I give a lengthy explanation about groups and slotting
in and feeling comfortable and being part of a bigger whole…)
‘So then what is disintegrate?’
*
‘Why is helium
called helium?’
*
‘Do you really get force fields?’
*
Scott put his feet on the table at supper so I told him
to take them off.
He did, and added with sincere, sublime charm, ‘Don’t
worry, Mom!’
Then you said, ‘Don’t worry about anything, Mom! God is
always with you so how can you worry about anything?’
I really didn't have a comeback. I really just wanted
Scott to take his feet off the table.
As for Scott, he follows you and copies you and loves you
fiercely. He digs his finger into your chest and says, ‘Jesus loves – you.’ (Sometimes he also bites you.) He
counts when you play hide-and-seek (‘One, two, seven, eighteen! Coming, ready
or not!’) What a gift you both are, each to the other. You play pirate-ships
and scuba-divers and you go on space-rescue-missions and
medieval-castle-drawbridge-manoeuvres and army-helicopter-fire-fighting-expeditions
and no baddie is safe in our garden. The way your brother-hearts are knit
together – it’s what Dad and I have prayed and prayed and keep praying – that for
each other you’ll fight off bullies and be wing-man and best-man and best friend
when you’re old and we’re long gone.
Precious, precious child. May the eyes of your heart grow
clearer every day of this next year.
How proud I am of you.
How great is our God.
Happy birthday.
Love Mom
xx
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