As Simeon’s language continues to develop, and his speech continues to improve, he’s sharing more.
Today he revealed a memory that would break your heart.
“…I sad. I scared. I hurt…”
Before that moment he was happy. After the conversation ended, he was happy. It was just a dark cloud of a memory that marred a small part of our day.
Sometimes I forget that he’s only three. He can do so much for himself. Despite his struggles to communicate, he has an aire of sophistication and a wide array of advanced skills that often cause us to forget how much he might need us.
And he thinks deeply. He really is a treasure.
He also like to study his boogers. I’m just sayin’ there’s more to him than your typical three-year old.
I was able to see him small and fragile today. His guard was down. He was honest. He wasn’t fighting me or the world at large, he wasn’t exuberant with life, he wasn’t marveling at the order of things. He was feeling and he was sharing and I wanted it to keep going, but I also wanted it to end.
I can’t fix that kind of brokenness. It’s not fair.
Cordelia. Today, Cordelia was grins.
And as I mooshed her face with my lips for the gazillionth time, I thought about how lucky and privileged I am.
And I’m thankful.
I’m thankful that no matter how painful knowing her birth mother did not want her will be for her, she will never have to fight the demons Simeon battles every day.
***A rain came through as I was writing this post and within moments, Simeon was outside in a too small, yellow rain coat and boots. Cordelia is curled up on a quilt with her hiney in the air. Somedays I love these kids so much it hurts.