“I want to be a fiweman. So I can wescue people.”
-Lucas (2013, 3.5 years old)
Sometimes my kids say things to me that are so moving to me that I catch myself, the look I’m wearing on my face. Because sometimes the aftermath of a heart-microwaving statement or moment is me sitting there, still, staring. I’ll soften or change my expression as I realize that they might mistake it for disapproval or something bad, and simply not understand what wonder looks like when it’s combined with pride or joy. My brow furrowed against disbelief. My head shaking slowly as I’m trying to scan for and reconnect with reality.
This was one of those moments for me.
Let me tell you a little of the background story behind my son, Lucas’, words.
A week ago, my family and Charlie’s spent the weekend up near Santa Barbara, at Hyundai’s amazing and unforgettable Epic Playdate event. Along with the fun of covering ourselves and fifty or so kids in tinfoil and whipped cream (more on that in another post very soon), they had a paramedic and fireman on hand for the event.
My 3.5yo son was in awe of them. He kept referring to them collectively as “the policemen,” which we gave up on trying to correct because we understood what he meant and because we knew he understood it was a fireman and a paramedic. And because it had risen to Level Ridiculous on the adorable-o-meter.
He shadowed them. Shy and awkward, suddenly picking at leaves and looking away disinterestedly when they looked over at him and caught him staring.
They got what was going on and… they started to play with him. Together, they kicked around a beach ball bigger than Lucas. You could have measured bananas with his smile. I squeezed my wife tighter as we watched.
He followed them around the entire trip.
And then he said he wanted to wescue people.
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