The Boy in the Mirror

Whenever I wrangle my mind away from what other kids Ethan's age are doing, or what he should be doing, and all of that wasteful thinking, I am able to truly relish moments like this:

Yesterday I was packing up the kids to sleep over the grandparents' house, and Ethan was up in our bedroom. We've got a full-length mirror on the closet door that's been there forever.

Not surprisingly, Ethan has never been one of those kids to enjoy looking at himself in the mirror. For the longest time, he'd stare without recognition, then he started giving a little grin each time he'd look. It's always been a fleeting thing, though.

Yesterday however Ethan suddenly "got it." He stood there, looked at himself and smiled. Then he started kissing his reflection. Then he saw my reflection and said "Mom!" I can't tell you how much that word means. I truly think I could hear him say it, yell it, whine it forever and not be bothered in the least, because when it takes your child until over age 2 to say it, and you're attacked by a fear that your child may never talk, "mom" is the sweetest word in the world.

Then he moved his hand to watch his hand move. He moved his mouth and watched his mouth move. He stepped backwards and then forwards. Anna came in and bumped him and I thought he'd be startled and run away from his fascination but nothing could deter him. He was mesmerized by his reflection.

I realize this is something a one-year-old would probably typically do. I'm starting to get to the point where I really don't care. The fact is, Ethan was taking another step and discovering his world. In his time. If I only focus on the timing or the delay, I miss the moment. I miss relishing the little boy in the mirror.