Another Year

Note: I pulled this one out of the bin and dusted it off. I wrote it months ago but never published it.

I love Christmas. I'm not a big fan of New Year's. Perhaps this is because I've never been much for big parties, and my husband even less so. We like to watch TV together and go to bed early. We were prepared for the war zone this year, so stayed up to hear the fireworks even though we couldn't see a single one from our condo.

Perhaps the New Year reminds me that life is fleeting, and that my son is growing. Each year, I find that I love the new version of him as much as, if not more than, the previous one. Nonetheless, he's marching through his magical early childhood years far too quickly. Right now, we can meet his meager needs easily. He is a happy child.

Small children are delightful. X calls everyone on the playground "fwiends", and for the most part, they behave accordingly. X can walk in on other kids' games and be included, despite looking pretty different from his peers. They haven't developed that clan mentality that makes them exclude people. In my recollection, that happens around age 10.

I'm afraid for when X enters these miserable years. I was very unpopular in school. I'm very happy to be the person I am today, a person who was forged in the crucible of middle school. But I almost didn't make it. I was lucky in that I grew up at a time before cyberbullying, when I could at least be free from torment in my own room after school. X is not so lucky.

He's an extrovert, and will hopefully have an easier time of it in school than I did. I want that for him, but I don't want it to be too easy. I don't want him to be in the "in" crowd, tormenting some other poor soul. Most of the kindred spirits I know today were ostracized at one point or another during grade school.

Like most parents, I want my child to be happy more than anything. As a close second, I want him to make the world a better place, not a worse one. I want him to fight on the side of light, facing others with tolerance and understanding. I am not convinced that both of these things are possible in middle school, in which case I choose tolerance and understanding and pray that he makes it through.

I wish he could be small forever.