Sometimes I forget how NOT normal our life is. We have our groove, our system, and the way we make our life work. It’s not perfect, and it’s not easy. We sit out of a lot of “normal”, because it’s easier sometimes. This time of year especially, there is a lot that we do not do, a lot of places we don’t go, and so many people we do not see for months at a time.
We have fun together, the three of us. Most days spent with them are a blast, and we love to laugh. Wyatt’s turned into quite the prankster in the past few months, and he lives to tell jokes, make us laugh until we cry, and the stories, oh his stories. This kid is full of one liners, and I never grow tired of them. He’s naturally a tinkerer, a dreamer, and full of wonder at how and why.
Tonight we had our Trunk or Treat at our church. I took a bunch of little toys (finger lights, dinosaur toys, etc) so people could hand them out to Wyatt and he could have a night of “normal”. Gram made him a new Star Wars mask to wear with his Han Solo costume, a costume that every detail was agonized and speculated over for the past month. We didn’t go to the dinner portion to try and keep him from the food and extra germs as much as possible.
This has been all he has talked about for days… days. Tonight, as we wandered from car to car, pumpkin pails in hand, I watched my kids with wonder. I was at ease knowing that he would get some treats, even if it wasn’t from everyone. Reagan was relaxed and didn’t feel guilty accepting a treat when her brother would have none. But, Wyatt. I cry just thinking about him. Words cannot fully describe the joy on my boys face. The pure, unheld back joy on his face, I will never forget it. Watching his jump up and down realizing, finally, something just for him. His sweet voice, a smile I cannot get out of my heart. Just being 5. There aren’t many moments in public that he gets to just be 5. There aren’t very many moments he gets to do what everyone else is doing, and just be the kid he deserves to be.
I’ve been choking back tears all night, at a moment that most won’t even think about 24 hours from now. A moment so normal to childhood most put little thought into it. At five years old, it’s a moment that’s never happened. Several people bought him special prizes, those ones choked me up, because it meant they purposefully went out of their way to think of my child. To allow him to be just five years old for an hour.
All night he’s pulled out the toys from his pumpkin pail, looking over each one, his smile so big, showing anyone who comes into the room. Tonight, he fell asleep with finger lights on his fingers, glow in the dark spiders in his bed. Tonight, my boy got to be just a five year old boy in a rockin’ homemade Han Solo costume. Never have dollar store trinkets been so valuable.