On our way to the doctor's this morning for the boys 2 year and 4 month check ups, a truck driver cut me off and I got pissed off, so I shouted "Fudge" at him. Not very effective, but it made me feel better. All of sudden I hear Mason from the back seat say, "Sorry, Mama." For what, I ask him. "It was all my fault," came the reply. I hurriedly assured him it was not in any way his fault then proceeded to scold myself for allowing those words to enter his vocabulary. It doesn't seem fair that at 2 years old he should believe that anything is his fault. 2 year olds should not have faults. Even though he doesn't know what it means, it seems like it's too much responsibility for one little boy to take on. Mistake seems like such a better word - I know they don't mean exactly the same but it is the closest word Mason should have to use at this age.
God, how I love my kids. I get these horrible images in my head sometimes of things happening to them and I forget to breathe. How will I ever feel comfortable letting them go, letting them go out into the big scary world by themselves? I know it's inevitable and it may seem strange that I'm worrying about this when they are still in diapers, but I am very aware how quickly time flies. I will blink and before I know it they will be off to college or off to travel the world or off to find their niches in life. I guess all Wolf and I can do is provide them with the best tools we can, give them all of the love in the world and hope that they grow into happy and well-grounded men.
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