Yesterday, Jamie and Axel started a ten-week program at tennis school. They were both SO, SO excited until the very second that it began and then Jamie lost it. Axel followed the teenage leaders and Jamie sobbed, clung to me, and refused to join the others. It was very uncharacteristic but I could definitely sympathize. In fact, the whole thing reminded me of that feeling of terror and imminent tears that I haven't felt for at least twenty-five years, but that happened semi-regularly as a child. You know the feeling: I don't know these people, I don't know what I'm doing and I'm going to mess up in front of all these people I don't know, I just want my mom and a hug. I'm hoping that next week, when the less-"fluffy" (MY SON SAYS I'M FLUFFY and I'm really hoping he means cuddly) Swede is there he'll be less likely to hold back.
Since that reticence was so unlike him, I was a little concerned about how his annual checkup at the nurse would go this morning. They were going to test his language, hearing, sight, fine and gross motor skills, among other things and if he was nervous it would be difficult to get an accurate result. Also, I knew they were going to ask him to draw a person and I'd never seen him do it before and didn't think he could, but please look at this:
Most four-year-olds just draw a head with arms and legs coming out of it, but my boy drew a body! And hair! Genius? Could be. At any rate, he wasn't nervous at all and actually seemed to be having a blast. He's growing like a weed and passed all the test with flying colors. I couldn't stop grinning.