Day Eighteen: Ezra, from 7 to 8

Yesterday, Ezra came in with a sprig from a pine tree. He feels deeply for inanimate objects, in particular ones neglected, forgotten, or fallen from a tree. He gave this one a home in the dirt of one of our (still alive!) houseplants. It’s the one next to the garage door from the kitchen, and I smile at it every time I pass by.

Send Ezra to clean his room, and he’ll be there for two hours. He won’t clean the room in that time. Once, instead of putting his clothes away, he laid them out on the floor in various robot shapes.

2019 was the string of “Your Face” humor. Ask him about his
day, what he wants to eat, the color of the sky – anything – and he’ll respond
with, “Your face,” and cackle like it’s the first time he’s told the joke. He’s
like my grandpa in this way.

He’s also like his daddy. I think they have a secret
language.

His emotions are mine, though – big and sometimes hard to
control. The other day was a 4 at school – not good when you’re shooting for a
1. “It was a chaos day, Mom. Have you ever had those?” I put my hand to my
chest. “I have, but I never thought to describe them like that. You are so
smart.”

He doesn’t think he’s smart. Schools test a certain kind of smart, and his older brother shines there. I get that. “Is it true that you couldn’t read going into first grade, Mom?” he’s asked me many times. “Oh, yes. And once I got it, I got it. It didn’t matter I didn’t get it before that point.”

He falls asleep instantaneously, and his limbs go 50
different ways. It’s like a game of whack-a-mole trying to contain them under
the covers.

I finally got him to agree to a mohawk this year. I bought
him the gel, but then he never wore it that way. Joke’s on me.

He’s the only Troy Boy who will eat potatoes, beans, and
rice. He also likes dinosaurs – not to eat; I’m just thinking about his overall
preferences, right now. And Led Zeppelin, tuna on crackers, Sergeant Pepper’s, hoverboard
ping-pong, and playing with friends from the neighborhood. Also, cuddles and romping
like a puppy on the floor with the dogs.

Not baths or brushing his teeth or waking up early (unless it’s his idea, which always happens on Saturdays).

My boys are each their own. My prayers for them are different. I don’t think it’s in Ez to tow another’s line or shine in typical frameworks, which can mean … anything. Anywhere and anything for this boy.