So by now you should have a pretty good idea of the way things work in our home - you'll know that we try to say a lot of yesses, and try not to demand others but take everyone's feelings into account.
You are especially aware if you read at happy-and-free.
Sketics always say "But how will they learn to live in the real world?" and I always say "I couldn't stop daily pains if I wanted to. They just happen."
A couple of interesting things have come up today.
We had planned to visit Costco - I was in desperate need of their Artichoke and Jalapeno dip, and we're out of parmesan.
Getting ready to go.
"Does Costco allow pajamas?"
I notice this time that he has said "allow", he's said it before, but it didn't register.
"Well, I spose they do, but you might be more comfortable in a pair of shorts. Would you like me to find you some shorts?"
"Well, yeah. I'd like shorts."
"Does Costco allow bare feet?"
This one I've heard before.
"Well, I'm not sure. But your sandals are right in the basket of the coatrack."
Somewhere along the way this child - even though he is given freedom and has a voice in his family, home, and life has still come to grasp the understanding of "some places have rules."
He didn't rail against it, or complain, just wanted to know what the facts were.
You met NC yesterday.
Trev was looking forward to her coming over probably since she went home last night.
I tell him we'll get ready and go run our errands, then he can go over to see if she can play when we get back.
A first for him.
A first for crossing the street alone. A first going to seek out a friend. A first in asking "can she play?"
I go to our gate, and remind him to look both ways to see if any cars are coming, he does, and then heads across the street.
"Just knock on the door", said I.
(You might think this is silly, but he's never done it before, and I really have no idea what to expect.)
Two long minutes later I hear something about "don't need to apologize, but..., okay?"
Apologize? something wrong?
Go over, no, nothing is wrong, NC can't play, they are painting before they move in this weekend, and need her help, and it will probably be a few days before she can play.
We started leaving, and Trev held it together.
About half way across the street, heartbreak settled in.
"But she promised! She promised she would come back and play today!"
I listened, and offered that I am sure she would love to come over, but they had a lot of work to do, and she would soon be living there, and could play quite often.
Was no help, of course.
"I just hated those stupid answers!" is what it boiled down to eventually, after "stupid mother", "stupid painting", etc.
It was when I heard "stupid answers" that I knew everything was going to be alright.
Trev had felt listened to, and validated, and now he was empowered to handle his emotions.
Two or three Growing Ups all in one day.