Quiet Determination

I used to think the love I had for Sis was the maximum amount of love my heart could hold. Then Bubs came along and proved that theory wildly incorrect. A full-blown two-year-old. Almost potty trained, talking like a fucking champ, and the sweetest little boy you’ve ever met. And I get the honor of being his aunt.

Katie by law. Auntie Kate by choice. Which means I get invited to some pretty elite social events. This particular one was a first birthday party. Woo hoo! Huge milestone. Bubs stood there for a minute just taking it all in. New house. People he’d only met a few times. A lot going on. Then he saw his oldest cousin.
“I want to go play with her,” Bubs said.
“Okay Bubs, go on over. She loves you,” I told him.
“Scared.” Fair. Honestly relatable. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll go get her.” So I went over and asked if she would come help Bubs overcome. 

She marched over so proud that she had been selected for this mission. Absolute main-character energy. She took his hands, said some sweet things to him, hugged him a little bit. Then he was ready. He grabbed some bunny ears, put them on, and started hopping around the house. “Ribbit,” he kept saying. Which… scientifically speaking is not how rabbits operate, but I admire the confidence.

I guess bunnies are out and frogs are in. Probably the new Starbucks seasonal cake pop influencing the youth.

And I know it was Lola’s day, and I really did try to make it all about her. But seeing him communicate what he needed and then jump right into the fun was one of those little moments that sneaks up on you. This kid works hard and perseveres. It shows up in small moments.

At the playground there was this climbing section that looked “awesome,” so he practiced and practiced until he could do it by himself. No quitting. Just determination and slightly questionable toddler balance. And honestly, that same determination shows up in the funniest little ways.

One afternoon we were having the best day. Playing in the rain, dancing, running wild. Towels tied around our necks like capes—we were superheroes. Bubs called his a Kate. It was really fucking cute.

“Cape,” I said.
“Kate,” he said.
“Cape.”
“Kate.”
“Cape.”
“KATIE.”

At this point the kid was confident. This sweet little angel baby heard cape and decided we were all saying it wrong. And he kept correcting us. To the point of pulling out my government name.

Moments like that make it hard not to wonder about the kind of person he’ll grow up to be. I don’t know what he’s going to be when he grows up. But between the perseverance, the communication skills, and the confidence to correct adults when he thinks they’re wrong…

I have a feeling he can do anything.