Last day before we head home. I’m going to miss this little guy who when asked who is going to help him get ready for bed, passes an “arrow” from one to the next several times before stopping at Grammie. I’m going to miss his crawling into bed with me of a morning or begging to see pictures of himself or his cousins on my computer. I’m going to miss his eagerness to race when challenged to see who can go to the bathroom quickest or get their shoes on fastest. (Don’t knock it; this alternative to a defiant “no” or tearful “I don’t want to”, is hard to beat.)
Next time I see him I know he will be taller. His vocabulary will be bigger, and he'll probably get those Ls that he is working so conscientiously to pronounce. The things that send him into temper tantrums will be fewer (I hope). He will recognize more printed words or at least be able to sound them out. Hopefully, he will still love sharing stories and cuddles and talking to Jesus.
I am grateful that I can spend this time with him. My parents had far less time with their grandchildren when my kids were his age and we lived far away in Brazil. Next week I will be able to hear his voice and see his smiling face via Skype if I want to (and if he can pull himself away from play long enough). Skype didn’t exist when my mother would have loved to see my little ones and interact with them as they became more and more themselves.
I will miss hanging out with my daughter and crossing paths with her very busy husband. I’ll miss meeting their friends and seeing them interact with the people in their everyday lives. But at least when Erika mentions someone, there is a good chance that I will know who she is talking about. When she says what a good time they had at [fill in the blank], I might have been there and be able to picture it.
I look forward to my own bed, my own kitchen, my own routine, but mostly I’m very grateful to have had this opportunity.