Loving Little-dom

There is something monumental about opening and closing weekends at the compound.  They not only serve as brackets to the summer season, but they also mark time in the same way that all annual traditions do.  We have a ritual of saying goodbye to the lake each time we leave it, and when we say our final goodbyes of the season on Columbus Day, I always find myself staring out at the unmatchable beauty that surrounds me and wondering where we'll be when next I lay my eyes on Keoka.  Seven months older, of course, but what else?  How else will life be different?  And then, before we know it, we're back on those same rocks, saying hello again.  And it seems like nothing has really changed, until family members note with shock how big the boys have gotten, and swap tales of the always-too-long winter.  So-and-so lost ten pounds, so-and-so gained twenty.  So-and-so has a new job, so-and-so has a new knee.  So-and-so moved across the country, so-and-so moved back home.  For those of us who still have little-ish kids, it's all good - gleefully told tales of potty training successes, new readers, and kids growing taller and leaner (those lanky Stockwell genes are strong!).  But this year, for some reason, I really noticed the changes in the bigger kids.  Some were absent, some might as well have been, spending most of their waking hours engrossed in a world that lived entirely on their smart phones.  Some openly voiced their discontent, or their boredom, wishing to be home with their friends instead of stuck in the boonies with their cousins.  And this all made me so sad.  Because I knew these kids when they were 5 and 7.  I knew these kids when they were my boys' ages, and they LOVED every bit of the compound, just as my boys do.  Watching the older kids this weekend was like looking into a crystal ball, and I didn't like what I saw.  So in addition to making me want to do everything in my parenting power to change that probably inevitable future for our family, looking into that crystal ball also made me cherish the littleness we have in our house right now.  To cherish all the wonderful things that make our littles little, at least for a little bit longer.  Things like...

Still asking to dye Easter eggs with me, and spontaneously doing it one week late because we never got around to doing it in Arkansas.

Adorable elementary school concerts that involve kids doing the tango.  Adorable!  (Ethan in green.)

(Although I do love the responsibility that comes with older kids.  I told Ethan he needed to wear a plain colored t-shirt and exercise-type pants for his concert, and I found this post-it-note stuck to his dresser the next morning.)

Unbridled excitement to bring hand-picked flowers and hand-drawn notes for teachers.  (This one's older brother was too embarrassed by this idea because "no one else is doing it.")  

Still loving our swingset, constantly reinventing new games, like playing soccer while swinging (using the buoy between the swings), or playing Quidditch on swings (yes, we've been reading Harry Potter).

And refusing to wear shoes.  Ever.

Asking to celebrate half birthdays, not in expectation of gifts or parties, but just wanting to be sung to and to eat (a half of a) cake.  Tonight Adam announced that his beloved Horsey was turning two (which is far from correct - he is five and a half - just like Adam).  Watching him and his brother throw a little party for Horsey, complete with wrapped presents, singing, and a bowl full of freshly cut grass (because that's what horses eat, of course) was beyond precious.  Until they kept bringing more and more grass into my kitchen - that wasn't so precious. 

Fully embracing the spirit of the "All Children Exercise Simultaneously" day at school, running his heart out and being proud and thrilled that his mom was there to help.

Loving nothing more than fishing with Dad.

Or kayaking with Mom.

Someone's too big to kayak with Mom now, but watching him tackle it solo is pretty darn cute.  I guess watching them grow up isn't all bad.