When I was a Little Boy

I love driving in the car with the kids. We have a sort of "traveling relationship" that starts with the click of their five-point buckles. Abby begins to grin and cycle her legs rigorously as if she just knows we're off to a land filled with clothing tags and warm milk. Grayson is too sophisticated to visibly show his enthusiasm. Instead he starts off with a string of questions like:

Are we going to the wegtable store (Trader Joe's)?

Will we have enough quwatahs (quarters) for the horse? (circa sad carousel incident when I didn't have enough quarters to let him ride the blue one)

Which way will we go? Dis way or sideways? (meaning turning right or left- I love this literal translation.)

...and so forth.

Yesterday while we set out for our Party Store excursion Grayson stepped up his question game. Abby fell asleep and G and I were idly chatting about stoplights, bulldozers, alligators and whales when he shot out a zinger that was like a window into his mind. It went like this:

G: "Mommy? When you were a little boy, were you afraid of something?"

Me: "Yea, Sweetie. When I was little I was afraid of things."

G: "You were? When you were a little boy like me?"

Me: "Yes, when I was a little boy (Couldn't resist...the correction will come next time) I was afraid of some things too like the dark and big dogs."

G: "Yeah. Big dogs. I'm not afraid of big dogs, am I Mommy?"

Me: "No, Bud you are braver than your mommy, you're not afraid of big dogs."

G: "What else were you afraid of when you were little like me, Mommy?"

And then I did what most parents probably would have done in my place. I paused, thought about filling his mind with fluff and bumblebees while weighing this next to a more realistic response. I went for the hybrid both:

Me: "Well Honey, I was afraid of a few things too. I was afraid of the ocean and sometimes getting hurt."

G: "Mommy? You don't have to be afraid of the ocean. There are alligators in there and they eat whales. That's all. I will make you safe. You don't have to be afraid of the ocean anymoren."

Me: "You're right, Bud. You already do make me safe, we don't need an ocean for that."

G: "Are we going home, Mommy? I want milk and juice and Max and Ruby." (what he always asks for like clockwork when he's seconds away from passing out.)

Me: "Yes baby, we're on our way. I'm taking you home and you can have all of that when we get there."

And that's when I realized that to be this little boy must, at times, feel like a giant dragon slayer in full armor stranded in a very small and sometimes not-strong-enough body. This cross is a lot to bare. He who protects his sister from the stairwell. He who protects his Daddy from routine. He who protects his Mommy from herself. (He who we find snuggled up in our bed each night at 3am after silently breaching the promise to stay in his own bed all night) Though his body is a mere hint of what he'll become, this little boy is brave, strong, and able. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I was this brave when I was a little boy. I'm not sure anyone was.