Mike came to me tonight and said, "Will you please restart your blog? It's a record of our lives." And it's true. I love scrolling through old posts, particularly the ones in the beginning when I had all the time in the world to write and craft my thoughts exactly as I felt them unfold. It's not that I don't marvel at Fionn's every move the way I did Celie's first 2 years--I do. He is an amazing boy, a remarkable boy. I've just been spending most of my spare time with him and Celie and Mike, leaving less time for the mental recoup it requires for me to write about what we do. There's a definite shift in time going from 3 to 4, and something's gotta give. For a while now, it's been this blog.
But I do find myself tonight with an incredible urge to remember every single little thing they do. At 2 and 4, Fionn and Celie are superheros: tiny bundles of big energy and imagination, able to do anything they can imagine, and still so innocent as to believe that the steam piling up from the campus vents might actually be the hot breath of a dragon. I told Fionn this today and started running across the rainy sidewalks, not realizing until we hit the street that his little chin was quivering and his eyes were as big as saucers. "Fionn? What's wrong?"
"Dragons, Mommy...under grouuuund." At times when he talks he sounds like Arnold Schwarzenegger and he repeats himself, each time with different syntax. "Under grouuuuuund, Mommy, dragon!"
Celie on the other hand is afraid of nothing but the dark, though in recent days has been making strides when falling asleep at bedtime. Tonight I was able to leave the room with the light on, while she counted her numbers (using her fingers to add) on her own. I always promise to check in on her in 10 minutes, though usually she's asleep before this. Celie is fascinated, almost "at one" with all creepy, crawly creatures. She hunts for worms under rocks (now with apprentice Fionn), captures moths in her hands to set them free outside, and hangs cicada shells like ornaments off her and her friends' shirts. It's no wonder she's Celie Cicada at school, a picture of the bug on her cubby.
And while they've known about Spider Man for a while now (Fionn received a Spider Man pillow per Celie's request last year for Christmas), it's only been recently that they've discovered the concept of Super Heros. And this, I can tell you, has been revelatory. "There's a whole legion of them, and they each have different powers," we say. We describe as many as we can remember, and try to emphasize the 'girl Superheros', though there aren't many. Luckily, Wonder Woman's so awesome she counts for more than a few of the men. "Just like me," says Celie.
Fionn on the other hand loves Thomas, unwilling to accept that his favorite blue train doesn't qualify. He also loves the Hulk and does an amazing "I'm getting angry" routine, which we all look forward to seeing this Halloween. Mike advises me that his costume doesn't need any stuffing--he's already got the little biceps and deltoids of the perfect man.
The Super Twins have also figured prominently, as Celie likes to discuss which of them would be able to turn into an animal and who would take the form of water. Mostly, we all picture Fionn as the former and Celie the latter, though sometimes they surprise me saying, "No, I want to be an elephant" or "You can be steam, Fionn!"
Superhuman strength, powers of invisibility (though "why is only her plane invisible?" is a very good question), and x-ray vision have all been topics of conversation in our home, a general vibe of investigative-can-do-invincibility. Nothing is impossible, though some things just pretend (like dragons under sidewalks), and hence an intriguing blurriness between fantasy and reality. As a result, Celie and Fionn embark on the best adventures.
Most recently, it's been the task of setting traps. Booby traps, Backsun traps (from Winnie the Pooh, of course), and anything resembling a web. Celie in particular has adopted this pasttime, even inviting her friends to the attic and then to our backyard to leave snares in each location. She'd previously perfected the art of weaving along our banister and gate using hot pink yard she'd found in my office while Fionn happily played alongside with his trains, occasionally throwing one down the stair to hear the bang-bang-bang against the wood (or perhaps as a warning to any would-be dragons for whom Celie was setting her traps).
Then out of the blue she'll shout: "Fionn! Fionn! A monster's comin!"causing them both to scramble into their room (one side painted pink for her, the other blue for him) to hide in the best spots they can find. Nine times out of ten when this happens, Fionn will bust out of wherever they've chosen yelling "prise!" while Celie busts out giggling hysterically at the whole event.
"I grow up be strong boy, Mommy," says Fionn.
"I'm the fastest person in the whole world," says Celie.
For them, the idea of Super Heros is so appealing because in their world, it's all still possible. "I wish I had super powers," Celie said to me once while driving in the car (a great spot for talking about life). "Who knows, Celie....you might. You never know." And I'm not lying when I say this. Because looking at my children, I can't imagine anything they can't do. I can't see anything but people with the most magical, superpowers of all.
