Unfortunately, he has always been too young and susceptible to respiratory illness to go outside and enjoy it.
Last week’s Snowmageddon: The Sequel was the first time that we could take full advantage of winter’s magic as a family.
We got a couple hours of playtime in Thursday morning before Zac had to go to work. By that time, the snow was already starting to melt.
I didn’t realize what a problem this would cause for Wyatt until Zac threw one last snowball as he was leaving.
Wyatt got very upset because he had claimed that one as his own and wanted to keep it.
I should note here that our son is a collector of nature.
If a rock is a peculiar color or an odd shape, it goes into his rock collection. He has also brought home quite a bit of broken asphalt from our church parking lot because he seems to think they are really special rocks.
His stick collection was formed a few months ago. I have yet to figure out what criteria a stick must meet to be deemed worthy of this collection, but suffice it to say that Wyatt has his standards.
After Zac threw his favorite snowball away, Wyatt decided to start another collection.
He made three snowballs and stashed them in our carport. Somehow, he had become convinced that they wouldn’t melt if we closed the door.
When I regretfully informed them that the darkness of the carport was not going to be enough to save them, he insisted on taking them inside.
At this point, I reminded him what happened to Frosty the Snowman when the temperatures rose. I hoped this would help him understand that all snow melts eventually.
Wyatt did not find this to be an acceptable answer. Whether nature would allow it or not, he wanted his snow.
Finally, I agreed to fill a gallon storage bag with snow and stash it in the freezer. There it has remained for the past week.
Wyatt has asked about it a few times, but he doesn’t seem to have any plans for it. He just wants to know that it is there.
What he doesn’t know is that his mommy is also having a hard time letting go these days.
It started after I posted some recent pictures on Facebook and people who haven’t seen Wyatt in a while asked where his curls had gone.
After Zac took him for his last haircut, I kept telling myself that the curls would come back like they did after previous trims.
As weeks passed, I held on to the hope that the curls just needed more time.
Then I found a picture from just before his second birthday where he looked like he had a perm, and I felt like having a good cry.
I can accept his ringlets being gone for good. He didn’t mind strangers mistaking him for a girl when he was 2, but it might get irritating by the time he is 4 and 5.
What really breaks my heart is knowing that Wyatt’s baby years are gone. Sometimes I feel like I blinked and I missed them.
At the very least, I think I mismanaged them. The year between his first birthday and his second is like a blur to me because I was so wrapped up in work, especially tornado recovery.
Maybe if I had done a few things differently, then I wouldn’t have such a hard time closing that chapter of our life together.
However, I am sure that even if I had an opportunity to do it again, I would make the same mistakes.
Mommies make mistakes. Snow melts. It is simply the way of things.
I try to remind myself that the tighter that Wyatt gripped the snowballs in his tiny, warm hands, the more harm he unknowingly did to the objects of his affection.
Even placing them in the freezer was only a temporary solution and didn’t preserve them as well as Wyatt wanted. The freezing process has hardened the fluffy white snow he loved into ice.
In the same way, I can’t turn back the clock, and neither do I wish to stop it. It would only harm that which I love.
Babies become boys and boys become men. It is the way of things. The only choice their mommies are left with is to love them and let them go.