Quiet Moments with the Birthday Boy

Today is Ethan's 4th birthday. When I picked him up from school, he announced, "I think I would like to go to the park today!"

So we did.

We marveled at the gnarled trees split down the middle, and mammoth branches still strewn on the ground from the storm.

We admired the buoy in the pond, which Ethan first called a football, and then, after I told him what it was called, said later, "I like that boo!"

We approached the playground, where Ethan announced, "I want to go on that tire swing!" I pushed him until he was dizzy. His eyes sparkled and his grin was huge.

"Watch me go down the pole!" he called a few minutes later, so absolutely proud of himself.

He told me to count while he hid and then proceeded to hide next to a tree right in front of me, in plain sight, with his eyes covered.

Then he told me I had to go on the monkey bars, which I attempted and failed miserably.

In the unseasonably warm November sunshine I could only think about how far we've come. I thought about the tiny newborn, born 15 days early, I held four years ago. Unlike his sister, he had trouble staying awake. He seemed to want to stay in the fetal position, fists clenched. He seemed to have a little trouble swallowing. He failed his hearing test at first.

My boy, starting out in this world with a neurological system that didn't fit him quite right.

But how he's adapted. He's learned so much.

I'm so proud of him.

The morning after Ethan was born, I looked out the hospital window and happened upon a beautiful sunrise. This morning, we had another one...all fiery orange and pink. Then tonight, there was a magnificent sunset as well. People were sending pictures of it to the evening news.

The sky was absolutely glorious, and all I could feel was blessed.

Ethan, a few hours old