About a boy

The wildflowers are going crazy in the front yard and so are the dandelions. He stands where we made snowmen just a few months ago. He begged me to make them all the way back home in the car, and all the way up the walk to the front door. I was cold and Charlotte was heavy. I just wanted to get inside. My fingers were numb. But I vowed that I would listen more and not be so annoyed. It seemed important to him.

My mom told me last year as I held little Charlotte, "honey try to listen to little boys more. They need you to do that more than little girls do." I was tired from a crying newborn and the transition, so much of it in such a short time. I was snapping at him "please stop bugging me!" She doesn't usually give motherly advice. In fact she never has. I have often thought about that advice and that moment, cringing.

***

Cold hands and very wet mittens, mine not his.

I cheated when he wasn't looking and made the small snowman's body out of a rock. He didn't know. It made it go so much faster.

He watched the snowman out the window off and on all evening, "is it going to be there all the time?"

"no it's going to be there for a few days though."

"but it will be there last morning?"

"you mean tomorrow morning, yes probably."

***

I'm trying to be patient and listen more. It's the hardest part about being a parent.