My boy has an incredibly ability to put me on my backside.
Both figuratively, and literally.
One of his favourite tricks – cannot think where he learnt it – is to catch me unawares, when I am in a bent down position, tying shoelaces, picking up toys, or whatever, he then proceeds to knock me off balance with all his might.
He calls it wrestling and hilarious, I call it unnecessary violence and mildly irritating, but I am guilty of the same.
If he is ever stood near a bean bag, or other cushioning medium, he often finds himself forcefully buried in them shortly afterwards.
His other ability is to catch me emotionally.
I find his brutish charm endearing - most of the time - but he also has a very soft side, a kind side, a side that is sometimes aware of his actions, a side able to eloquently state fact and situation, he is basically a dodecahedron.
And he can go from beast to beauty in 0.5 seconds.
Even quicker the other way around.
This ability is not limited to me, and bouts of breathlessness can be induced from gaggles of people, even beer gardens are not safe places.
Yet a few weeks ago he left me utterly speechless. No mean feat, that I am sure several will vouch for.
Well, I was not so much speechless, more in a state that I knew if I attempted to talk I would have turned into a man-sized-mound of blarting.
We had had school guests for tea, they had played nicely, no issues, which is always welcome, and I was pleased that he had shared, and offered things to his chums without the need for any serious prompting.
But it was when they came to leave that he got me.
With the recent time change, and the season, it was inevitably dark when we opened the door to show out our visitors.
It was a clear evening, the moon was in view, as where many stars.
Max focused only on one.
‘Oh look, Mommy’s star is shining tonight.’
Cue figurative backside position for me.
And our guests were also a little tilted.
It really caught me off-guard, it gets talked about quite a lot, but for some reason, this mention had me a little overwhelmed.
Shortly afterwards, with composure restored, together we explained that we had arranged the naming of a star in honour of Max’s late mother. And that it is part of the Andromeda Galaxy, also known as The Princess, hence why we chose it.
I know he is aware of the star, and why it carries his mother’s name, but it was pleasing to watch him, in a matter-of-fact manner, be comfortable enough to explain to his friends, or rather, in front of them.
I do not want his grieving to be stunted, nor do I want fiction to get in the way of fact, neither do I wish to alienate friends too fearful to mention the obvious reality of our situation.
Thus, the boy done good.
And I, just needed a moment.