Brave

One of the best parts of motherhood, so far, has been the discovery of qualities in my child that I, as an adult, still struggle to attain.  I am so incredibly proud of Miles' innate sense of what people need, of his charisma, his dancing ability,* his absolute love for all creatures.

But, most of all, I am proud of his courage.  He is so little, and the world is so big.  And yet, he faces every new situation with enthusiasm.  That doesn't mean he isn't afraid.  He is, rather often.  In almost all new situations, he will keep a hand on me, for reassurance, until he has decided that it is safe.  But that fear never stops him from exploring.

I realized this once more last Thursday, when we visited the Children's Farm again.  On the playground, he kept returning to the swing, even though each little push terrified him.  He would ask to get down, then return to it a few minutes later, determined to try again.  In the goat pen, he once more played with the goats freely, while much older, bigger kids backed away in fear of a bite or some other imagined danger.  On the sidewalks, he ran with wild abandon from one exhibit to the next, while most children walked a half step behind parents for protection.  He explored open green spaces.  He peered inside buildings.  He petted a cow that was literally taller than me.**

I am so proud of my brave little explorer. :)

*Hell, the fact that he has way more skill in all physical activities than I'll ever have.  It's kinda sad to realize that a 19-month-old is better at catching a ball than his mother. . .

**And giggled when it made a cow pie, but that's a fairly normal reaction, I'm told, for a boy. :)