My son Kosmo is 6 years old. His speech is a little developmentally delayed, that is what the school says anyway. Right now he is undergoing testing, so that he can speak more clearly, blend in with his classmates and have confidence sharing his mind. I am all for it. I am also kinda sad.
The last remaining moments of “sghetti”.
He is my son, and I have loved every word he has ever uttered.
Especially when I had no idea what he was saying.
For his 4th birthday Kosmo asked for a Cheese themed party. So that’s what he got, cheese trays and cheese hats, cheese cake and cheese prizes…..I am not entirely sure that’s what he meant, he seemed shocked and disappointed at the reveal of that party…like somehow I had gotten it all wrong. I have spent years trying to figure out what else sounds like cheese?
Once I asked him what he wanted to be when he grows up. He said a brick. I think?..Then he said ” or a cheerleader” now that I am sure of.
I understand almost everything he says now. But occasionally I hear him say something so wrong, so wildly mispronounced and deconstructed that I am in awe of his genius little mind. Taken aback by his conceptual thinking. Mark Twain once said, he never respected a man who couldn’t spell something more than one way. I feel that way about words.
I love how my son freaks everyone out in the grocery store when he asks for Peanuts. He never pronounces the “t” . I love how he says “underwears” and “Hims” instead of “His”. I never correct his request for armyjohn (parmesean).
I love how I am not quite sure what he is talking about. Today Kosmo got off the bus and asked me to paint a cake on his belly with a cat on it….At least I THINK that’s what he said.
Somehow painting Kosmo turned into painting mommy.
I think they did a swell job. But my favorite thing that happened was Kosmo kept wandering off my face. He didn’t want to be limited , he wanted to paint in my ear and down my arm. I let him paint my neck. and whatever was sticking out of my shirt. All of a sudden Kosmo is laughing. What’s so funny. Howling Kosmo throws his head back covering his mouth with his hand , he turns to Ogden and says ” I painted nibbles on mommy” and sure enough, I look down and directly on my cleavage are too big round circles.
Yes I find it just as disturbing as you do that my son was painting nipples on me and calling them nibbles. But my point is this..That shit is hilarious.
I have drawn the conclusion that “getting it wrong” is just as valuable a time as “getting it right”. We are so concerned with the final outcome, the potty training, the perfect manners, the eloquent speech that we lose sight of the glory of imperfection. I want my children to be the very best versions of themselves, to grow and learn beyond all measure….but I also want them to know how cherished they are exactly how they come. I needed to hear that today (so I’m glad I said it!, glad my Kosmo reminded me), to stop begrudging my own imperfection and just embrace where I am at. Dang…lessons are everywhere.
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