He's pushing trucks around the house, hiding in duffel bags, zooming over the arms of the sofa, making squealing noises as they try to stop before diving nose first down behind the television. And tonight as I make dinner, he's playing at my feet in the kitchen. A big dump truck and a small white truck. The big truck is named "Big Truck" and the little white one is "Fire Truck", he tells me this as I stir the tomato sauce. Ah, I say. So, Big and Fire are their names?

He looks at me, but only briefly before disappearing back into his little world of trucks, swirling at my feet.

I hear their conversations and feel almost guilty for eavesdropping.

Hi. Big says to Fire.

Hi. You come with me? Fire asks.

I too big. Big says.

You can do it. Fire says.

And they ride down the length of the kitchen, hopping through the legs of a kitchen chair and then meeting up again beside the wainscoting.

Woo-hoo, Fire says to Big, cheering him on - You did it!


Later, he's jumping in his room - up and down on his bed, his face bobbing in and out of sight of our neighbors as he moves in front of the window.

My goodness, he says to something happening outside - a loud truck rumbling past, an altercation between neighborhood kids, something I can not see or hear. But he says it again, My goodness. Not upset with anything, simply an expression of bemusement. Much like how I say the phrase at the end of a long day.

I stand in the doorway and listen to him, it's the first expression of mine that I've heard him repeat.


It's been weighing on me a lot lately, stressing me out. This idea that somehow I'm doing something wrong, damaging his childhood in some way or another. Snapping at him for not eating all of his dinner, for whining, for taking off his pull-up and peeing on the floor rather than telling me he needs to use the potty. Lots of things have been breaking me quickly lately - lack of sleep, being the primary culprit.

But still, each night I go to sleep wondering if all of my love and attention has somehow outweighed my momentary lapses of mommy-loveliness. The times when I'm raw and irritated and hissing through my teeth that we listen when Mommy tells us to pick up our toys. I pray that somehow these moments of failure, of weakness, of letting myself put myself before others, won't have an impact on how he treats others, how he sees the world, how he deals with frustration and anger.

I just don't want to mess him up, I guess, is all I'm saying.

And so to see him today, mimicking encouraging behavior with his toys - and repeating something like "my goodness" with a quiet bemusement at his window - I sighed with a bit of relief.

It's a long road between here and adulthood, and it's going to be a process for all of us, going through it together for the first time. I'm just glad to be assured that, if nothing else, for right now, in this moment, the good stuff is sticking.