Nate The Great Speaks The Truth

One of the best parts of staying home with my sons is that I am privileged to hear some of the most amazingly wonderful utterances from them. Spontaneous moments that either leave me doubled over laughing or make me do the swooning mom thing--literally making me say aww!

So many of these little moments give me insight into who my children are and how they are developing. Glimpses of their true selves trapped in their tiny little bodies.

Nate the Great has been giving me plenty of these moments lately. His switch from a three year old to a four year old has given me great joy. Mostly because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It has been a very long eighteen months of tantrums and boundary testing, which coincidentally (ok, not at all a coincidence) lined up exactly with the arrival of his little brother.

But as of late I get more explanations of feelings and less wild man primal screams of frustration. And on the flip side, I get wide eyed excited stories instead of just squeals of delight. Although I do already miss the toddleresque screeches.

Some of the things are everyday boy stuff. Things that remind me that boys are little men and apparently in accordance with popular belief some things truly are ingrained. I asked him why his hand was in "that" region. Did it hurt? Itch? Was there a problem? To which he responded "No Momma, I'm just checking it out". Oh lovely. Moments like these make me wish I had at least one offspring to have a discussion with that I could remotely relate to.

Then there was the sweet moment a few days ago. Driving in the van as a family, from the way back I heard the boyz discussing family. To which Nate joined in the conversation adding that there is Auntie Kimmy, his Godmommy. Now Auntie Kimmy is my friend from childhood, an honorary but earned title of Auntie was bestowed with the birth of Seth. I was touched that he was including her in his family outline.

His older brothers, that understand lineage and relatives a little more, tried to correct him. Explaining that a Godmother is not necessarily in your family. To which Nate replied "hey, she's my girl".

I beamed from my perch in the front. He has learned what is most important. That family can be just as much about who is there, who is helping and taking care of your needs and wants, than it is about genealogy.

And finally, there was the spiritual moment. At dinner the other night it was a bit crazy. Often the act of getting the food to the table, helpings heaved on a plate, drinks poured and everyone in our family of six sitting down and ready to eat makes for a disorganized dance of chaos. Once everyone has food and we are ready to eat, we collectively exhale and then take a moment to pray.

The other night Nate had had enough of the waiting and the pouring and dishing out. We went to pray only to look down to the other end of the long table (Nathan sits directly across from Daddy D at the head of the table) to find Nate's face covered in sauce and him chowing on garlic bread.

Daddy D started interrogating. Why are you eating when we haven't prayed? To which Nate replied that he had already prayed. Daddy D asked him how did he already pray, he hadn't heard anyone praying. To which Nate replied "I prayed by myself. Inside. I felt it in my tummy".

And in that moment I melted. Completely and totally. Because there in that child's description I could physically feel exactly what it is to offer up a prayer to God from your inner self. Silently. Without audible sounds. And to have your soul do the talking.

The tummy part was not exactly right, but he will learn that in due time. The correction to wait for everyone to sit and pray was left to another day. In that moment we knew lessons had been learned and our four year old understood what it was to talk to God. On his own. Without a need for an intermediary. With tears in my eyes I looked at Daddy D and said awww.