My niece and nephews are especially dear to me; they’re all unique and wonderful little people. I’m so happy that over the past year I’ve gotten to spend so much time with them, and to learn so much about them and from them. They can restore my faith in the goodness of humanity at times when I’ve pretty much given up.
This little heartbreaker is especially dear. He’s the youngest, and very likely the last, and he will never be this little again. When I’m visiting, I’m often the first one up in the morning, enjoying the quiet wee hours with my knitting or a book. Philly is usually up next, and without saying a single word, leaps up into my lap for a good long cuddle. According to mum and dad, he’s always like this in the mornings, and loves a little closeness with a trusted grownup to start his day.
He’s a whirlwind the rest of the day, bossy, opinionated; bright and sparkly; curious and full of wonder. He’s just everything a five year old should be, and he has the best parents a kid could ever ask for to guide him. He’s surrounded by love and music and total chaos.
A few months ago, I gave him his birthday gift and somehow managed to drop the pen I signed the card with into the bag. He was totally thrilled with the light-up lightsabre bubble wand, but even more so with the pen. “WOW! My very own pen!” Yeah, nothing says Auntie Lynne loves you like a chewed-up half-empty ballpoint, buddy.
He’s quick to laughter, and quick to rages and tears. Life is still brand-new, and he’s delighted by everything around him. Typical kid, he never walks when he could run, never talks when he could shout or sing. He’s the only one in the whole family who can dance. He’s everywhere, all the time, a hundred miles an hour.
But first thing in the morning, a few times a year, he’s my lifeline.
“Dad,” he said to my brother once. “I’m having a GREAT life.” I know he makes mine better.