Looking for Tinkerbell

It's been nearly two months since I've blogged, mainly because as far as life goes, I've bitten off a little more than I can chew.  By that I mean, I decided to get pregnant again while raising a two-year-old, holding down two part-time jobs, and preparing for the holidays.  Needless to say, naps have started to take precedence above all else. 

But I thought I should take this moment to announce to everyone who reads my blog that my little boy has arrived.

No, not our second boy, who is still cozily curled up in my tummy attempting--in this ninth month of pregnancy--to pry my hips apart.  My first little boy, Finny, has arrived, in all his boyness, just in time for us to spend long winter months inside together.

If you know Finny personally, you know that he is a very sweet-natured, cuddly little guy.  I would say this is generally still the case.  However, this past week, I've noticed a bit more of a shift toward that sort of aggression that comes with boys, like he just got shot with a dose of testosterone or puppy dog tails.

Phrases like "I break it!" or "I crash it up!" or "The monster!"  or "Roar!" are now common pieces of our everyday conversation.  Last week on our way home from the doctor's office, I heard some loud, violent growling coming from the backseat.  I looked back and found Finny baring his teeth, gripping the arm of his toy stethoscope between them.  When I asked him what he was doing, he responded in an Austrian California Governor sort of accent, "I break it!"

Yesterday, I found him doing the same thing with a plastic drum Christmas ornament.  He had taken it behind the couch in the family room like a wolf bringing back his kill to the pack and he was tearing it apart with his fingers.  When he saw me hovering over him, he looked up and once again responded, "I break it!"

Build him a tunnel out of blocks?  Think he might want to admire your handywork as much as you do?  Think again.  "I crash it up!" he'll say as promptly levels it, sometimes before the last block is even in place.

Think lions, tigers, bears, and dinosaurs are the only things that roar?  Think again.  According to Finny, so do giraffes, pigs, and the occasional bunny rabbit.

Think Rudolph is the cute and cuddly star of the claymation Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?  Think again.  All Finny talks about is "The Monster!" in his best abominable voice.

But just when I think I've lost him to the dark side, when he says "I break Mommy!" and comes charging at me, just when I sigh and say, "Okay, here we go.  Bring on boyhood and all of the relentless destruction that comes with it," Finny will say or do something so gentle and sweet that will remind me that hidden behind the crashing, the breaking, and the obliterating, there is tenderness.

I had such a moment last night, as we were driving through a wooded Christmas light display at Sharon Woods park.  Finny has recently discovered Captain Hook in stories and poems and has a mild fixation on him.  One of the first light displays we pointed out to him was Peter Pan and Captain Hook engaged in a sword fight, but this time he wasn't interested in Captain Hook or Peter Pan.  In fact, for the rest of the thirty- minute mile of lights, he was interested in none of the other light displays of snowmen and choo-choo trains, and zoo animals.  For the next thirty minutes, all we heard from the backseat from his tiny, little bundled up head was, "Where's Tinkerbell?  Is she in the woods?"

There was something so sweet and small in his little question that he repeated over and over again.  Something so soft and little that made me just want to scoop him up and hold him close. 

All the books have torn pages, at least four of the ornaments already need gluing, and I get horrifying glimpses of Lord of the Flies when Finny comes charging at me threatening to "crash mommy up!"  But, little boy, no matter how big and destructive and aggressive you become, no matter how many toys get hurled down the stairs or how many towers get knocked down or how many Fantasy Football Leagues consume your mind some day, I hope there is always some part of you that is forever looking for Tinkerbell in the woods.  Then I will know you are my little boy.