Shining smiles

Tomorrow my oldest ”little” boy will turn 11.

11.

Do you remember being 11?

11 is a magical age. I can see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes – he waits on the cusp of his upcoming metamorphasis into a man with excitement and a bit of concern. In many ways, he is still a boy – happy to build his K’Nex ferris wheel, complete with motor and all – but at other times, he is the most insightful young adult I’ve ever met.

This morning, for example, Matthew made the following pronouncement during our traditional getting-ready-for-school meeting in the bathroom:

“Mom, once I tried broccoli soup and even though it looked disgusting and even though I don’t like broccoli, I actually liked the soup! It’s funny how things that look disgusting can be really good...”

That, my friends, is a terrific insight in itself… but he went on and it got even better.

“… so I’ve decided that I’m going to broaden my horizons and try to taste everything that is available for tasting. After all, we humans really shouldn’t limit ourselves to eating things that look good.”

In other words, Matthew has arrived at the age-old cliché that “you can’t judge a book by its cover” on his own… and then applied it to food.

Matthew’s birthday always marks a special moment for me and I treasure the day in a special place in my heart. He was born in the middle of the night after endless hours of struggling to bring him into the world. His actual entrance was so quiet that for several minutes I kept repeating “Steen, he’s not crying. Why isn’t he crying?!?!?”, and then suddenly my fears that something was terrible wrong with my little miracle were wiped away by a gusty, loud scream.

From the moment the midwife put him in my arms, Matthew looked at me with his big blue eyes. Even then, I could see the knowledge passing across his features. He already seemed to be a child who would prioritize thinking. Holding him, I wondered what he could possibly know, and as every mother, I spent those first few days in the hospital marvelling at the opportunity that lay before him. Who would he be?

Today – 11 years but what seems like a blink of the eye later – I already know part of the story. He is a talented writer who loves his Donald Duck comics. He is a gifted mathematician who treasures his weekly turns at playing the Wii. He is generally a happy kid who struggles to understand why the kids in his class can’t just get along. He is, above all, a shiny, sparkling star in my life. My treasure.

Matthew means “God’s gift”. He is, and I am honored to be his mom.