Grant has been evolving. Not quite into his final form (and, who among us could claim that?), but evolving nonetheless. One very visceral example is we’re listening to music on Alexa this morning, and when “Black Hole Sun” (Soundgarden) came on, he said “Alexa volume up!” and he’s singing along. But it’s more than just excellent taste in music.
He’s finally gotten the hang of our sleep-in schedule. I get up with the kids on Saturdays, and Bob gets up with the kids on Sundays. When he can wait no longer for a parent to get up, he goes to the correct side of he bed, and he whispers to that parent about getting up.
Grant possesses strong beliefs, intractably held. It’s always been his way or the highway. It’s taken him five and a half years to learn about compromise, and while he still hasn’t quite gotten all the nuance down, he’s tentatively exploring this space. He’s the type to leap first, and while he’ll always be like that in some ways, hopefully he’ll continue to learn more about the benefits of thinking things through.
Grant believes himself to be the third adult in our family. While this has sometimes meant he wakes us up holding The Big Knife very casually, or trying to parent the twins, or being screamingly furious that he isn’t allowed to drive the car, it’s beginning to mean something new. The other day he carried in a box of smoothies (which is a big box, but not heavy), put it down by the freezer, carefully got out The Big Scissors (we need fewer big sharp things, perhaps) opened the box, put all the smoothies away in the freezer, then put the box in the recycling. I could get used to this.
Sibling relationships continue to be confusing for Grant, but he’s adjusting to circumstances, rather than trying to bend the universe to his will. Grant sees how Henry and Eleanor behave with each other (best friends), and thinks he can behave the same way. But they’re a closed loop for now, and it makes him mad and sad. But he’s been trying to play with them, rather than attack them with playtime, and they’re reciprocating. He’s taken to hugging them and saying he loves them. Whichever one he plays with most recently is his best friend, to hear him tell it. He just knows your brother or sister is supposed to be your best friend, but he hasn’t figured out why that isn’t his experience yet. I can’t tell if Grant should have had a twin, or if that would have been the literal death of me.
As I’ve been typing, Grant has been rooting in the toy box, and been piling up toys and books around me to entice me away from my computer. It’s time to go play and be his best friend.