Earlier this month he turned six. And earlier this month, I cut his curls shorter than I've ever cut them before. Something-something about his hair couldn't touch his collar, read the school handbook. People like to tell me stories about their own little boy who never loved his curly hair and how he always requested it be cut clean off. But not my Graeme. Not my sweet Graeme-bear. Not yet anyway.
I've been studying his face lately, a little bit more than I usually do. He's growing up. But I didn't see it–– I didn't notice the subtle boyishness arriving until I cut those curls so short the other day. Somehow that baby face turned right into a young boy this summer. And he is so handsome.
It was never in my plan to homeschool. But somewhere along the line our hearts began to be pulled in very specific ways concerning his schooling for this year. Once each week he attends classes at a charter school, learning Latin, character education, and cursive lettering and loving all of it. The rest of the days find us here at home, completing his assignments together.
I would not trade this time with him for the world. There are days when I cry. There have been days when I have made him cry. But there are incredibly sweet and precious moments and together we are learning. I often find him lost in a book, clueless to me standing there, watching him, storing up the moment in my mind. Over the last couple of years I've prayed that God would give me a stronger bond to him. God, would you open a door? And God always works. It just usually looks drastically different from what I think it will look like.
And so my Lulu naps, Jobie attends pre-school three mornings each week, and the morning is a gift of time with my Graeme. And I can feel our bond growing.
Yesterday, he leaned in close and said to me–– "mommy, when you get old, I'll come mow your lawn for you. And I'll bring you flowers. Because I'll miss you." And I wrote it down on the backside of his sunday-school paper with tears in my eyes because I don't want to ever forget how he said it, with his lips pursing a little to the side. And I especially don't ever want to forget what he said.
This time with him is a gift. And don't you let me forget it.
p.s. Let it be known that while typing the title of this post I had to type the word homeschool three times before I spelled it correctly. All the smirky smirks. (smile)