“Baby, I need you to stop crying about everything,” I say to my 4-year-old son, followed by a heavy sigh. Another day, another sob-fest about something that broke his little heart. He is my sensitive soul, my middle child, my gentle spirit.
I will painfully admit, that I don’t always handle his sensitivities in the most patient way; like my kindred gentle soul whispers to me that I should. I get frustrated at the amount of calming and coaxing I have to do. I get tired of every disappointment ending in a river of tears.
But then I consider what kind of young man he is going to become, with all the love and sweetness he possesses and I know it’ll be a beautiful thing. Honestly, there’s not even one part of me that wants to “toughen him up.”
I watch him show an affection and tenderness for his little brother, that not a lot of boys his age are known for.
I hear him ask me to hold him many times a day because his little spirit needs that physical connection to recharge, and I think of how affectionate and loving he will grow up to be.
I listen in admiration (And a bit of exhaustion) as he expresses his feelings. “Mommy, I’m so disappointed because I didn’t get a date with you today.” “Mom, it made me feel so frustrated when you said I have to share my new toy. It’s special to me.” “Mommy, I had a really overwhelming day.”
I can just imagine the amazing communication skills he will have in his future, that at 4 years old he can spell out his feelings instead of just turning it all into anger; as too many men in this world do.