Pieces of Max

Max is a sweet, stubborn little boy. And has been since day 1. Stubborn that is. Where Lucy did everything by the book, Max did NOTHING by the book. Stubborn. He left me guessing for a long time, and it took me FOREVER to figure him out. Still working on that.

But there are a few things I HAVE figured out (hooray me). I have figured out that he is a tender, sweet spirit. And when his tender sweet spirit feels at all threatened, or backed into a corner, or if his agency is in danger, he fights back with all the fierceness that a 4-year-old can muster. And this 4-year-old can muster a lot of fierceness.

I think he doesn't like succumbing to the 'sweet' feelings very often. Ever since he was a tiny baby, he has NOT liked to be sung to. Fitful tears would ensue. I try not to take it personally. Lucy and Logan both like my singing, so I figure it must be Max, and not me. Turn on some ACDC or Metallica and he's a happy camper. And when music is playing, he only dances or sings along if it is a boy singing. Because he's a boy.

He DOES NOT like me to pick out his clothes for him. This is a hard one for me, because I just want to get it done! And he comes up with some of the craziest outfits sometimes. Like the thickest, wooliest sweater paired with basketball shorts, black church socks and once he even attempted flip-flops with that...but switched to vans because he couldn't get his toes in the flip-flops with his socks on. So one day, if he looks back at pictures and thinks he looks ridiculous...it's because he dressed himself that day. I carefully try to point out outfit combinations for him without appearing to step on his agency and right to choose...just a little guidance. Usually it works out. Or, we just buy clothes that look like Daddy's...and he'll match what dad is wearing almost any day of the week. He is on a new Star Wars kick in the last month, and so he has exhausted his 3 Star Wars shirts like nobody's business.

Same thing goes for trying new foods. He's strangely picky. I say strangely, because he's not picky about everything...just odd things here and there. Like Peanut Butter. He does not like peanut butter, and will not go near anyone that is eating it. But he loves Peanut Butter cookies, granola bars, peanut butter cups, peanuts. yup...something about the butter makes him gaggy. Weird. He also doesn't like cereal...at all. Except for dry fruit loops. And he will not sit beside you if you're eating cereal. This makes breakfast time a gambit most mornings as I try to guess what he will eat that day. I've taken to making waffles for dinner on Sunday evenings, and then freezing leftovers to pop in the toaster during the week for Max. It's working so far. Strange. But he LOVES veggies. Like, he will eat buckets full of peppers, and asparagus, and carrots, and snap peas...but not frosted flakes. Who is this kid?

One other crazy but completely WONDERFUL thing about Max is that his sweet little spirit just can't handle hearing, or watching injustices happen to babies. Even cartoon babies. Even if the thing happening to the baby is not really that bad...or even bad at all. If the baby is not being rocked or cuddled by a loving mommy and daddy...then the threat of tears is close. I'm sure I've mentioned before that Megamind was not a hit in our home at first, because it starts with two babies being hurtled through space in mini-rocketships. Not good. Toy Story 3...not good. Creepy baby-doll did not go over well with Max. Prince of Egypt. Not good. Baby Moses in the basket floating on a river of hippos and crocodiles? Yeah, not good.

So, on Sunday, when I'm teaching singing time in Primary and the kids are learning Away in a Manger, I look over at Max and see his face getting red. He's holding his hands really tightly, so at first I think he's hurt himself. I pause and get down on my knees in front of him and whisper in his ears. (He also doesn't like to be made a spectacle of...'Privatecy' is a big deal). I ask if he's hurt. He shakes his head no. His face is getting redder, and I can see hot tears starting. Then it clicks in my mommy brain...Baby Jesus. "No crib for His bed." Quick fix time, before this melts-down. I whisper that he needs to trust me, and that this is a happy song. "Can you trust me?" he nods yes...his mouth is still frowning and his eyes are still wet. Deep breath. Primary ended fine. He sang the song. Tears went away, quite quickly actually. And on Sunday evening, over waffles, we talked about it.

It is in these moments that I am SO grateful that I pray everyday to be a good mom. I'm not saying I'm a good mom...but the Holy Ghost definitely makes me a better mom. Snippets of inspiration. Other people might call it mother's intuition...but I know the source. How do I broach this really BIG subject, without overwhelming him with details about crucifixions, or talk to him for too long that the message gets lost in what appears to be a lecture? Welcome Snippet. A light goes on in my brain and I realize that I need to talk to him about 'being special'. And that being special isn't based upon the clothes we wear, the colour of our hair/eyes/skin, or the place we were born. Jesus was a King and he was born in a manger. He was still special. Being a child of God makes you special.

It worked. He accepted it...gladly too. It seemed to click. Now, I hope it sticks.

So there you have it. Pieces of Max.

Did I mention he's hilarious and probably doesn't even know it? Yup. At lunch yesterday, while eating a muffin he says to me, "You're gonna need to vacuum when I'm done!"

Thanks buddy. I already guessed that.