Home

Though it’s been a few months now, I have this moment in my head and just have to share. It’s one of those, you know, moments…the kind where you get that reminder that you are dealing with a higher power and your kids are just angels on loan.

First, let me explain that story time at night is one of my most favorite times with my older son, Graham. Reid is still too little to really enjoy his books. But Graham has gotten to the place, finally, where he can become enthralled with a book and sit through the whole thing. I read the words and feel his body become still on my lap, seeing his face fixated on each page. And I just know that of course this is just my first sign that this kid is going to be President. Of course.

Story time has been especially important to us this year as we realized Graham had a delay in speaking and was lagging behind where “they” say a 2-year-old should be though they couldn’t find any reason why. I remember when “they” told us we needed to start seeing an SLP, and I wondered, “Have I not been reading to him enough? Speaking to him enough? Practicing phonics enough?” And story time became kind of a big deal to me.

But I digress. So on this particular night, I don’t even know the story, but that’s not even the point. The point is actually that the story was over. And we were just rocking in the big brown comfy chair in his room. And talking about the random subjects that make up 2-year-old topics of conversation. This night it was about naming each person in our family. At this point in his speech delay, he called his brother Reid by a sound in the back of his throat that only his dad and I could decipher. It consisted of no vowels or consonants, and I really have no clue how we determined he was saying “Reid” but that’s what parents do – we translate. In trying to get him to speak “Reid” or at least “Weed” a little more clearly, we did a lot of pointing and asking “Who’s that?” So, on this night we were doing a little of that. Naming mommy, daddy, Graham and Weed. And then, out of nowhere, he labeled all of us:

“Home.”

Yep, wherever all four were involved, my baby had decided that’s where his heart was. His home – the magic equation of himself plus mommy, daddy and little brother. His sanctuary, his respite. His home. And mine.