Wednesday, January 27, 2016

My Brave, Bold Boy

Every time I look into this little boy's eyes, I can't help but pull him into my arms and squeeze him. The best part of all of this is that when I pull him close, his body melts into mine and he snuggles right in.

I think we've actually stayed this way for upwards of an hour before.

Andersen is a momma's boy. He always has been. 

Sometimes it's hard to watch him get older because he is my baby. A part of me selfishly mourns that he relies on me less and less. And another part of me selfishly mourns the fact that I thought my life would be totally different right now. I never envisioned Andersen being my youngest child. He was always going to be a middle child. That's just sorta how it works. You don't always get to choose those types of things.

I worry about Andersen, maybe more than a momma should worry about her son (or maybe just the right amount). I see him differently than most of the world would see him. When he reacts without thinking, I remember back to the days when I would get in trouble and I wasn't quite sure why.

ADHD will do that to a person. 

There are times Andersen is in tears because he swears he didn't mean to hurt his sister or a friend. He just happened to be swinging his arms in circles and wacked them in the face.

I get this boy. 

And I know why God gave him to me. 

Because even though I get frustrated with him, it happens less and less the more I see him acting how I used to act. I see so much of myself in him and I want him to know that I get it, that I understand why he does the things he does.

Andersen marches to the beat of his own drum.
Have I mentioned how much I love that about him? 
(If we're Facebook friends, you hear about this regularly.) 

A while ago, he saw another boy who had grown his hair out longer and then buzzed the sides and he had his long hair in a bun on top of his head. As soon as Andersen saw this, he said, "Mom, I'm growing my hair out just like Elijah's." and he's begged for me to put a bun in his hair most days since then.

 At first, it wasn't a possibility but he has been patiently growing his hair out for months and now we can get a tiny bun on top of his head.

The very first time I put a bun in his hair, Andersen looked in the bathroom mirror and pretended to faint because he loved it so much.

His reaction just about killed me, it was so cute.
And the happiness that simple little bun brings him is worth all of the weird looks we've gotten from people.

Because that's the only crappy part about marching to the beat of your own drum---not everyone likes that. Not everyone understands it.

The first day Andersen asked if he could wear his bun to school, I was worried for him because I didn't want the other kids to make fun of him.
But when I picked him up that day and asked him about it, he told me how so many kids told him they liked his hair and that his teacher complimented him.
Melt. My. Heart. 

All I've ever wanted for this boy is for other people to understand him like I understand him. I pray daily that the other adults in his life will be patient and loving, even when he has a hard time listening and following directions.

I'm proud of my boy for being who he wants to be and being bold enough to not care what other people think.

He is one of a kind, this boy. 

And I love him with all of my heart. 

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