A Thousand Words

And just like that, January is gone. I've missed a month of stories, but I have a nice little collection of photographs that I can caption to catch up.

Sam loves Lego. I think we went a good six months of hearing "I played Lego" as the sum total of the child care report. Nine, ten hour days of a fully structured program with a dozen other kids, and he only remembered the Lego. Not surprisingly, the lego pirate sets are the centre of his bedroom universe. And this Christmas, Grandma & Grandpa Arnold gave him a 380-piece Dinosaur set (but who's counting pieces?), and we've been building fearsome beasts. I took a picture of the beaming boy holding up our first creation, but this is the photo he liked best. It was his idea to pose dino as though he assembled himself and was now crawling out of the box to wreak havoc in Hudson house....

While rooting through a back seat pile of commuter-parent baggage (lunchkits, laptops, gym bag, backpacks, snowpants, groceries, art work) during a Sam drop-off a few weeks back, I spotted a colourful hexagon next to his booster. I spun around to ask Sam if he made it ... and broke his heart. He let out a wailing "ooohhh, nooo!" that made it clear I'd spoiled a surprise. Holding back tears, he explained: "I wanted to wrap that up for you!", the thrill of Christmas still fresh in his mind. I knelt down for a big hug, declaring my love of the little craft to help soothe his obvious disappointment. "Is this an ornament?" I asked ... and then had to stifle my laugh when he answered earnestly, "Yes. I wanted you to have something beautiful to look at while you washed the dishes."

Unlike the 'housework hexagon,' most of Sam's drawings are monochrome. He favoured a simple pencil for the longest time before moving on to the brown crayon. Then he went through a festive red stage through Christmas before settling on blues, where he's remained—aptly—for the chilly month of January. Before taking down the December bulletin board, I want to commit a few things to memory. First, Sam and made the wreath together during the Centre's "Annual Cup of Cheer" breakfast reception. Perched on the wee chairs together, we had a fun conversation about Christmas decorations. Another night, we coloured the Santa pic together, and Sam tried once again to decide if he preferred spelling his name with his left or his right hand. Finally, the figure at the bottom left that struck me as a lynched cowboy is Spiderman, lowering off a wall to battle the muscled stickmen in the centre of the drawing (click the photo to enlarge). I've developed quite a skill at eliciting details from him rather than guessing at the picture's content. I love these little Sam collages: I wish we could keep them all forever.

And speaking of wishes and forever, I will never tire of the sight of my slumbering son. Somehow in sleep, the infant's chubby cheeks, shallow breathing and tousled hair return and he's my baby bunny once again. He stays perfectly still through the night, with those small hands tucked up between face and pillow in a portrait of pure peace. I hope he always sleeps like that. I call this picture "Four Kisses," because that's how every day ends. Once the stories and songs are finished, I kiss his forehead and both cheeks before our goodnight kiss. And each kiss has its own statement: "Good night (kiss), sleep tight (kiss), sweet dreams (kiss), I love you (kiss)." Sleep well, Sammy.