Ian

Maybe my children watch too much Veggie Tales. Tonight, Ian was getting frustrated with himelf because he wasn't able to fit a puzzle together as well as he wanted to, or as fast as Grace, whom the puzzle was facing. He said "I'm not good at puzzles anymore, I'm just not good." So, I tried to encourage him by saying "Ian, that's not true, God made you special.." To which he interrupted "..and He loves you VERY much...Goodbye!" Which, of course, is what Bob and Larry say at the end of every Veggie Tales episode. Ian and I both laughed, and I reminded him that he was very good at puzzles and that God DID make him special and God doesn't make anything bad. He made Ian just the way He wanted Him to be. There are days when it is hard for me to remember this, when I am tired of reminding him for the seventh time in 10 minutes what he is supposed to be doing, when we start his reading lesson for the day and he has no memory of what he was rattling off with ease the day (or the hour) before. Or when he gets frustrated with himself for not being able to do something he usually can (like the puzzles) and just bursts into tears. Times when we are in the middle of Wal-mart and he has tried to slowly explain what he's trying to get across to his squabbling siblings 3 times and finally just starts hitting his head in emotional distress because he doesn't know what to do to be heard.

Sometimes I will be going over something with him that I have explained a hundred (it feels like) times and in the middle of it, he raises one finger and with a look of genuine perplexity says "Excuse me, but what does 'obey' mean?" There are times when I am afraid I have held him accountable to more than he is capable of, and look back in tears to those times when we punished him over and over and over for things that we thought surely he was doing intentionally, but now I wonder, did he really just have no memory of the 3 minutes prior when I told him to stop whatever it was he started doing again? I don't know. Some days I do hold him less accountable, only to see the next day that he is taking advantage of the fact that he isn't required to do what his younger sister is. And some days, I know, he isn't capable of doing what his younger sister is accountable to do every day. But, some days, he is capable of so much more.

I don't know what to expect from him. I don't know when he wakes up in the morning whether he has any memory of the things we did or said the day before, and yet, when asked to describe the first thing he remembers, he says in a calm voice "Well, it was when I was in your belly, and my head...um, (here he pushes his hands down on the top of his head) I was trying to get out, and there was something sticking to my belly button." The other night I was talking about something that happened when George was a baby and Ian said "Where was I?" "You weren't born yet." George said. Then Ian got a thoughtful look on his face and said "Oh, yeah, that was when I was still in Heaven." "What did you do in Heaven?" I asked. "Well, I was just talking to God and eating fruit and stuff." Ian answered. "What did the fruit taste like?" I asked, trying not to smile, "You know, apples and pears and things like that." "And what did you talk about with God?" "Mama, it was a really long time ago, I don't really remember." Of course.

You might think that he is just a silly and imaginative child who likes to make things up, but if you knew Ian, you would know that he would probably fall under the category of "not clever enough to be deceitful." It wouldn't occur to him to make up anything that he would try to pass off as truth. I'm inclined to believe he does remember being born, and also inclined to believe that he doesn't really remember where he put the book he had in his hand five minutes previous. Of course, there are benefits to his short memory, including overwhelming gratefulness. A few weeks ago, he got dressed, came out in a shirt he had worn dozens of times and said "Wow, Mama, thanks for the new shirt!!" Everyday is a new experience of wonder and fun for him, glimmers of things he has done dancing only in the periphery of his consciousness, while his brother and sister are on the edge of boredom from the same activity repeated over and over. Although he might sometimes be the first to get his feelings hurt, he is always the first to forgive, and never holds a grudge, picking up the hurtful offender in a bear hug and saying "It's okay, I forgive you!" Sometimes his exuberant affection for everyone does get him in trouble, since he forgets that Claire is no longer a baby he can pick up and cuddle, or stroke her cheek without her trying to swat him away. The cat has become very tolerant of too tight hugs and being craded like a baby in the blue blanket Ian is hardly ever without.

He is forgiving, and he is giving. Last week, he told me he had a big secret he had to whisper in my ear, and told me in hushed tones with wide eyes that when he goes to Toys R' Us with his birthday money, he's going to buy George the Anakin Star Fighter Lego set that George almost bought on his birthday, but decided on another set instead. And seriously, he will get just as much joy out of this as if he were to buy it for himself. Not that some days he wants to share his favorite stick with his sister or let George have the coolest Lego guns, but he is usually the first one to think of giving something to someone, and then he can hardly contain his excitement to do it. Last year for Nate's birthday I went shopping here, there, and everywhere to find the man a bike I could afford. We finally found one, then were in Wal-Mart a few days later and found an amazing deal on a tent, too. The kids were repeatedly reminded not to tell Daddy about his presents, an injunction that George sees as a life and death situation and Grace could care less, but Ian, I think, tries so hard to remember what it is he's not supposed to tell that sometimes he forgets that he's NOT supposed to tell. For some reason, a few days before Nate's birthday and a few days after we had bought the tent we all were at Wal-Mart together. We all go shopping together probably 3 times a year, so this was unusual. Of course, Nate wanted to look at the camping stuff, and I knew when we went over there that one of the kids was probably going to point out to Nathan that we were just here and what we got for him. I could see George making frantic (indecipherable) shushing motions to his siblings as we rolled the cart into the aisle. Ian just kept the biggest grin on his face and didn't say anything at first. I was beginning to think we'd glide out of there with the surprise still intact, until all of a sudden Ian pipes up with "Daddy, we got THAT tent....and a BIKE...for SOMEONE ELSE'S Birthday!" With this, he looks at me and says in a whisper loud enough for the whole department to hear "Mama, didn't I do a good job not telling Daddy?!?!?" George smacked his hand over his eyes and hung his head in despair. Nate and I just grinned at each other as I said "Yes, Ian, you did a really good job." We were at Goodwill when my mom was visiting and George saw a My Little Pony movie that Grace would like so we picked it up for her while she and Ian were near Grammy's cart. When Ian came over to us a few minutes later, George whispered what we had gotten. Ian got all excited and tried to hide the video further, then as soon as we got close to my mom and Grace he said "Grace, don't look...right here!" And pointed to where he had hidden the movie. Again, George smacked his hand to his eyes and hung his head in despair. :P Ian is just so excited for anyone to experience joy and wants to be a part of it, too.

There are days when I wish he were like a normal child, that I could know how his mind would work when we got up in the morning, that I would know what to expect and could plan on a normal progression of learning and memory. It would have been nice not to have had to duct tape his pajamas on for a year, or to have had him potty trained before his little sister. It would have been a lot easier if I didn't have to put him back into bed 20 and 30 times a night when he was two years old. It would be nice if I didn't have to fear him going into a meltdown of frustration and emotional turmoil everytime I leave my house, it would be nice if I could get through to him when his eyes are glassed over and he just screams and screams and screams. But, then maybe I wouldn't have the same loving, caring boy, who can't wait to spend his birthday money on his big brother. Maybe I wouldn't have the same boy who would gladly spend an hour playing with blocks and singing to his baby sister, who tells Grace he loves her 10 minutes after she has taken his toys away and pushed him over. Maybe he wouldn't draw pictures of God telling Jesus what a good job he had done "reaching down to earth to make men and women and babies and children in ladies bellies and sea creatures and stuff." or pictures of him hugging everyone and writing "I *heart* U....Ian" I think God did make him special, and that God loves me very much to give me such a special boy to love. I don't know what I'd do without him.