the little things

I have been meaning to write about Porter since he turned two, almost exactly a year ago. Then I was going to do it at 2 1/2, because I wasn't going to let perfect be the enemy of good enough. Now he is almost three and I have so much to say about him, but I just wanted to record one little thing that sums up so much of his little self.

Porter has been attending a tiny preschool class at a local public elementary school. He was invited to participate as a "peer model" in a class designed for children with various special needs. Porter loves it and has gotten so much out of it. He talks about his classmates as his best friends. He loves and is very loyal to his teachers, too. When Will remarked that Miss Misbah had a funny name, Porter didn't miss a beat to defend mildly: "No, Misbah a nice name." One of the children is in a wheelchair and is nonverbal, and Porter loves her and talks about her all the time. When I was dropping him off last week I watched him suddenly jump of from the activity table, run and grab a napkin and then gently dab up some drool on his little friend's face. It might have been the sweetest thing I have ever seen.

Porter is wild and happy and you can't take your eyes off him for a minute because he will run away. He chatters constantly and sings little songs and can operate an iphone with adult ease and basically never feels pain somehow and does not tolerate being called little or a baby, even when you mean it in an affectionate way. In many ways living with him is like living with a chimpanzee, right down to the poop flinging (if I had written when he turned 2 I would have bragged about how he had already potty trained himself, but now I have to admit that we have gone backwards recently). When he does something wrong he tries to weasel out of trouble by claiming his action was "an accident!" He loves Greek yogurt with honey and almonds and blueberries. He can make his own sandwiches, ride a scooter with terrifying confidence and speed, has ruined many of my clothes giving me kisses on my belly with a nutella-ed mouth. He has taken offense to sleeping in a crib and has been awakening in the night to disturb our sleep and make demands, but mostly to cuddle. He loves to give fives to everyone, and is saddened when complete strangers fail to reciprocate his high five advances or notice his waves. If he hears a story of misfortune, he is always ready with commentary on what he would do in that situation, and it invariably involves preparing himself with a helmet, shield, parachute and some sort of weapon. He is affectionate and joyful and just a bright shiny light in our home. And most of all, he loves everyone.

I know he will move on from many of these little quirks and traits, which is why I record them so he can always know and I can always remember. But I hope, and I sense, that the story of his love for his little classmate will always sound just like him.