This summer we celebrated five years of August M. There are oh-so-many layers of August . . . he wears many hats and each of them he honors with equal intensity. There isn't anything my boy does not do with his whole heart (unless it's brush his teeth or make his bed, but I'm not sure anyone really does).
This kid loves four-legged creatures and anything with wheels. His heart is tender and his soul quite giving - yet he'll stand up for himself and that Sister of his. Cowboys and pistols, "putting food by for the winter", and writing are daily passions this summer as are "special days" and going out to eat. (Could any child possibly love the experience of a restaurant dinner more than August?)
I watch my boy as his love of letters and numbers blossoms and grows into signs, lists and notes. I step over a deflated fireman, cowboy, princess and policeman as they lay in heaps, discarded from one act of play to another. I marvel as he and I play the parts of nursery rhymes and childhood stories in the car - and then make up songs to accompany our fun. I stand in amazement, watching a chid who is ever so attuned to the colors, textures and patterns of the world around him.
And I am ever so grateful for our five years of August.
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