I’m not sure how I did it. And I certainly didn’t mean to. But I did. I broke Little.
He doesn’t seem like the fragile type. No, he’s the kid who jumps superhero heights. Runs faster than a speeding bullet. Doesn’t blink at bad news.
It seems I forgot that this tall, lanky wannabe athlete/bad guy/superhero is really just a sensitive, needy little boy.
It seems that my leaving for a few days, combined with his best buddy moving hours away, combined with his ongoing sinus infections/allergies/exhaustion, combined with being the little brother to an overachiever and the big brother to a little performer has finally done him in.
For two months, he’s shed crocodile tears. He’s literally held on to me for dear life. He’s begged me not to leave his side, and yelled at me for standing too close. This morning? He cried and yelled for an hour because I wouldn’t buy him new sports shoes. Then he collapsed into me. And I eased him off the ledge, and into a long, calming bath.
I’m trying to fix him. I’m spending more time being totally present. Scratching his back, arms, and head every moment I possibly can. Eliminating any medications that might be making this worse (which has led to another round of antibiotics). Telling him all the reasons he — and he alone is special. Fostering new friendships. And loving this sweet, little, broken boy with my whole entire heart, which breaks a little every time I see the desperation in his eyes.
This is real. This is family. And I’ll keep holding on until we reach the other side of this — together.
This post was inspired by the Project: Underblog Monthly Link Up. June’s topic is family. I hope you’ll come check out the other writers who shared their stories, too! And if you’re a blogger, link up!