Through his eyes
I had him to myself for days as my husband enjoyed a
long-overdue vacation, fly-fishing with his father in Colorado. Every night was the push and pull of hurry up
and slow down, and the weekend was full of let’s-just-do-whatever-we-feel-like-doing. And not cooking much.
During my husband's vacation, I took him to Sea World in San Antonio, where I had been invited to participate in a conference as a Sea World blogger, and after the morning education sessions, my parents dropped him off with me at the front gate and the two of us explored the park together for hours. The day was fast, made up of shows in the shade and splashes at the water park, and punctuated with bursts of running through the park in the sun. He was slathered in sunscreen, and in typical fashion, I sprayed sunscreen on myself everywhere but my face; I had meant to wear a hat.
During my husband's vacation, I took him to Sea World in San Antonio, where I had been invited to participate in a conference as a Sea World blogger, and after the morning education sessions, my parents dropped him off with me at the front gate and the two of us explored the park together for hours. The day was fast, made up of shows in the shade and splashes at the water park, and punctuated with bursts of running through the park in the sun. He was slathered in sunscreen, and in typical fashion, I sprayed sunscreen on myself everywhere but my face; I had meant to wear a hat.
When I stop and pay attention to the world through my son's eyes, it looks much brighter. He doesn't have to worry about paying bills, or work, or the worries and stresses adults deal with every day, and letting go of that for a few minutes is a relief.
I didn’t watch the beluga whales and their trainers in the water as much
as I watched my son’s face to see his eyes sparkle and his hands clap with
delight. I watched him dance and sing
along with the music and wave his arms in the air.
We swam, and I wished I had a camera to catch the joy on his
face as he readied himself to take the long water slide into my waiting arms
from above. I memorized the moment instead,
freezing the picture in my mind, and beamed back at him, my smile mirroring
his. I had to let go a little, as adults
aren’t allowed on the slides, and I had to trust the friendly staff to send him
down and catch him at the bottom, as I watched.
He wasn’t worried at all, and I could tell by his face that he felt like
he was taking on the world in his bright yellow foam life vest.
He chose the order of the day, and I was surprised that he
chose the calm, soothing Circque du Soleil-like water show Azul, not once, but twice,
even over his beloved Shamu. He chose
the carousel and the little roller coaster, asserting more than once that he is
a “big boy” and could ride it very well, thank you. I was amused by his words, but also felt a
little wrenching of my heart. No, you’re
not a big boy quite yet.
On the way home from San Antonio, our plans went awry, and
my hopes to share the best barbecue in the world with my parents in Lockhart,
Texas were dashed with impossibly long lines.
I failed to remember that fathers love barbecue, and on Father’s Day, long
lines were guaranteed. By the time we
found an alternate location for lunch, it was 2 PM and I was hungry and way
past irritable. My son’s rapid-fire
“why” questions were more than my patience could handle in that moment, and I
snapped at him, more like a moody teenager than an adult.
Once we all ate and were back to ourselves again, I held him
in my arms and apologized to him for being impatient. It’s almost always the circumstances and not
him that causes any impatience on my part.
With great three-year-old solemnity, he said, “It’s OK,
Mama. I had a great day.”
If only we all had such grace with each other. Seeing the world through his eyes is the
reward for any rainy days I’ve ever had, and it all seems worth it to get to
right now.
Love,
Love,
