Why....

Cole has always disliked wearing button down shirts or anything with a collar. I can't blame him really, they do tend to be more confining and restrictive than t-shirts. However, simply there are times where he needs to be more dressed up.

Recently, I was putting him in a button-down as he had field trip to the Children's Museum with his school. He squirmed and fidgeted as I did my best to align his slim arms into the sleeves without creating any bunching. I kept getting the rolled eye glare like I was making him eat broccoli or drink carrot juice. As I made once last attempt to straighten his shirt and comb his hair, he gives me a huge sigh and says "why do I have to be so handsome?" All I could do was burst into laughter and reply honestly "because you look just like your daddy!"

Speed Limit 100...

As my Mario Andretti races around the house, I remind him as I watch him veer in a zig zag fashion and see him narrowly miss impact with the door frame that he must be a careful racecar driver and remain in control, less he spin out, careen into a wall and lose the race. With the utmost conviction in his voice, Cole replies "...but mom, I have to go 100 miles ago to win!". I laugh out loud and say "you mean 100 miles an hour?" He looks at me with such exasperation and says "no, mom 100 miles ago, I'm just playing pretend!"

So you don't forget...

So sadly in recent weeks, I have had to have conversations with Cole about what death means.

In late February, Cole's close buddy Benjamin's doggie passed away
and I tried to best explain that when someone/something dies that we care about, they are no longer here for us to see or be with like we have gotten used to but that we have the memories that we have created with them forever and we can always always still love that person/pet. I expressed that when people/pets die they become angels up in heaven. He then asked about heaven (as Dave and I don't go to church, we haven't exactly gotten around to sharing with him about god and heaven). So I said well, heaven is way above the clouds. Angels live in heaven and can fly and see us but we can't see them. I then began tripping over myself as I didn't want to say too much and confuse him.

Cole seemed to grasp the idea that Benjamin's doggie was "gone" but bless his four year old innocence when he said "well don't be sad mommy, Benjamin's doggie can fly".

Two weeks later, shocking news of our next door neighbor's father's car accident and death. It knocked the breathe out of me as I read the text that Debbie sent. I sat down on the couch barely able to dial the phone to inform Dave. A tragedy beyond comprehension that had us reeling since we had gotten to know Dave Brekke over the past several years. I was so sad and cried openly in front of Cole. He came over and asked "mommy why are you feeling this way?". He hugged me as I explained that Jesse's (our neighbor) daddy was killed in an accident, that he had died. His eyes got big as he stated "so he is not here anymore, right?" I nodded and he goes "...but mommy, it is okay to be sad but Jesse's daddy is an angel now" which just made me cry harder as I listened to my little boy try to make ME feel better.

Two days later, Jesse came over into our yard with Coogee his lab. I had said the day before to Cole, that he should draw Jesse a picture. He had said he would and took off to do so. I honestly had forgotten about it. Cole ran downstairs when he saw Jesse and came back with a sheet of paper with blue circular squiggles and his name written on it. He then proceeded to tell Jesse as he handed him the paper that "here are the clouds where your daddy lives now". Jesse asked if he could take the picture to show his mom. Cole matter of factly retorts "sure but don't forget to bring it home to put on your refrigerator so you don't forget to look up at the clouds"

Until it was necessary, I never knew how difficult it could be to define death and make sense of it in the most honest way he could understand. As an adult, death, especially when it comes unexpectedly doesn't make sense to me but as a parent, my role is not to interject my personal feelings but to give Cole enough information to feel comfortable enough to come up with his own interpretation. Obviously, he has done exactly that.

Life is a Highway (or racetrack)...

Cole loves to zoom all over the house with any of his fleet of toys with wheels; it has been like this since he was 18 months or so and I don't see his enthusiasm ebbing anytime in the near future. Lightning McQueen was on his second birthday cake and he sings "Life is a Highway" unabashedly. He wakes up in race mode and takes his favorite car/truck up to bed with him to place on the floor while he sleeps.

He puts his cars/trucks in their makeshift garages when we clean up. He knows when one of them are misplaced after playdates. He tells me all the time that he wants to be a racecar driver, an excavator operator or some day drive a 18-wheeler/big rig that carries toys (of course).

He gets so excited when a NASCAR commercial comes on; gets starry-eyed when we come alongside a tractor-trailer on the highway and runs to the window when the garbage truck comes each week.

Cole is constantly wanting to race cars on his racetrack with Dave and I; seriously aside from his request for a snack, it is a close second in his daily pleadings. He loves to win and thus we have had to have the discussion that winning isn't everything (yeah, okay, get a four year old to accept that that is plausible). However, as all parents know, I cannot "race" on his every demand; so Cole who has been sharpening his negotiating skills lately said to me the other day with a twinkle in his eye "mom, go get some magazines and come watch me race" knowing full well that I couldn't turn him down as we both would get the best out of that deal! Oh boy, he is going to be able to sell manure to a farmer with his "sales" skills, just as innately talented as his daddy!