Today I heard Momma talking with another big person.  She seemed really mad and sad because of what the other person said.   I didn’t really understand a lot of it, but there was enough that soaked in to my developing brain.  Just so you know, you big people should really watch what you say in front of a 2 year old…especially when that 2 year old gets quiet and intent on a toy.   C’mon, is a cardboard block really THAT interesting at this stage???!!!

Momma was upset about me, not AT me, just about me.   I heard her say that calling me “different” because of what I did or didn’t do yet and where I came from wasn’t okay.  I saw Momma’s face.  I’ve seen that look when I use walls as my canvas (hey, you can’t harness creativity), when I hit or kick, when I help “fold” laundry, eat kitty food, feed kitty food to Lyla, and wash the phones.  Somebody was being sent to their room…and it wasn’t me this time.

Anyway, I guess some people think that I am different because I didn’t come from Momma’s belly, and was sick when I was born.  I guess some people think that Momma and Daddy are different because I wasn’t in Momma’s belly.  Momma said putting me in a box wasn’t okay.  (By the way, I love climbing in boxes, so I think she’s confused but we’ll clear that up later.)

I felt tired suddenly from so much listening and sorting in my head.   Usually Momma says different is good.   She tells me all the time to look at something she is taking a picture of, and that I will see something different than she does, different than Daddy does, different than the camera does…even though we are looking at the same thing.  Okay.   AND, Momma goes on and on…and on… about how seeing everything around us in a different way is good.  Okay.  Both Momma and Daddy tell me to try different foods, to read different books.  They say it makes me an explorer.  An adventurer.

But the way Momma was acting made it seem like this “different” wasn’t okay.   I checked out of the talking for a bit to carb up my brain with pretzels, but when I came back, I started to understand.  Momma made it okay.  By the time I was done examining and dissecting my cardboard block, I realized it was really cool that we are the family we are, every part of it.  Like… just as cool as my Legos and cars.  Maybe cooler.  I realized it is okay to be different and I am special and loved because I’m Nate, not because of how I was born, or that I do things that other kids do, or don’t do.

Momma said that from now on, if being us and being our family makes us different, then sign us up.   She said that no amount of different would change the love we have.  So, when Daddy held me tonight, looked at me, and told me, “Nate, you are amazing”, I looked right back at him and said, “You are….diffent!!!”