“Ma’am, your baby is staring at me.” Starbucks, sometime in 2013.
Doodle was in the stroller as I waited in line at the coffee shop with my older girls. I looked down at my boy, gave his head a little rub, smiled at the gentleman in front of us, and said, “he’s a watcher, he just takes everything in.”
I would have never guessed all these years later, that he would still be that same quiet boy, who would often rather observe his world rather than experience it.
It wasn’t long after that instance that he said his first words. But then it slowed down. And at two, when he wasn’t putting words together, I mentioned my concern to the pediatrician, who agreed it was worth getting checked.
Except, Doodle started talking that same week, putting together words in all new ways. It was as if he just didn’t know he was supposed to until he heard us talk about it.
And when it came to reading, he took his time. Barely reading at all until after his seventh birthday. And this year, when he was eight, he helped his older siblings and I read books from the young adult/teen section of the library.
But in public, he’s still that same quiet boy. We have to remind him to use his “big” voice, even at home. And he will smile at anyone, but will only readily talk to people he knows very well.
He still likes to sit on the sidelines when things are busy and loud, taking it all in, rather than jumping in the middle of it.
He is the epitome of the “strong, silent type.”
And the past year has certainly given us plenty of crazy! But, as Doodle does, he’s just taken it all in stride.
He didn’t feel bad when some of us got COVID over Christmas and couldn’t visit family like we’d planned. In fact, I think he loved the time isolated alone with his daddy, and space from the chaos his brother can churn up.
He didn’t get defeated our down when this season of gymnastics threw blow, after blow at him.
First a busted lip a few days before his first competition.
Then a broken finger two days before his second (he competed anyways, because we didn’t know).
A myriad of scores, from his lowest ever (5.0 on floor), all the way up to his highest ever (9.7 on his favorite event, pommel horse); always smiling no matter the score.
His first fall ever in competition, off of that beloved mushroom.
Then getting 2nd place on pommel at states, the youngest in his division by at least 6 months.
A jammed finger at competition, resulting in having to scratch bars when he couldn’t get his grips on.
All culminating in qualifying for regionals, and getting to compete at West Point.
And when he found out his daddy would have to be away for work and miss his birthday today, he took it in stride, refusing to let me completely give up Mother’s Day for his celebrations, instead insisting we both be honored with gifts and love.
He might not have much to say, and you’re most likely to see him smiling on the sidelines, but there’s no doubt this newly minted 9 year old has taken in so much over his little lifetime. And watching him grow, being part of his journey of becoming, feels magical at times, because he sees the world through eyes of wonder, curiosity, and longing to understand.
And while his brother will be tearing down anything that gets in his way, I think Doodle will be quietly planning and plotting in the shadows, creating his own path to a better world in his own quiet way.
