I am often asked about Nicholas’ development, how well he’s meeting ‘normal’ milestones, how he fits into the spectrum of Down syndrome and what ‘level’ he’s at.
They are well intentioned questions, I know, but in all honesty, I don’t spend a lot of time comparing Nicholas to a list of milestones or his peers, whether they have Down syndrome or not. Maybe I will down the track. Maybe I’ll get a pang when I see or hear about what kids his age are doing that Nicholas is not. For now I’m running with a quote I read recently that said, ‘Comparison is the thief of joy’.
I love the way he lights up when he sees one of his family members. He smiles with his whole face and we can’t help but beam back at him. His joy is contagious.
I love how much he loves his brothers, and how much they love him. It’s a mutual admiration society around here.
I love the way one of us can start singing or tapping out a beat and he’ll start swaying to the rhythm.
I love watching him pick up each little blueberry, each piece of banana, each morsel of food and chew it carefully before moving on to the next piece on his highchair tray.
I love the way his little lips move when he concentrates on something intensely. And, boy that boy has intense focus.
I love his in-depth conversations of ‘mum-mums, bub-bubs and dad-dads’, often at rather high volume, when he’s excited or just feels like a chat. Or when no one is paying enough attention 😉
I love the way he rolls and stretches to get where he’s going, even if he usually ends up even further away from his target. He is trying so hard to get up on all fours, but the roll is a trusty mode of transport for now.
I love every gram of that kissable chub. Nicholas is currently weighing in at 9.55kg, so that’s a fair bit of chub to love.
I love that, in his own quiet way, he tells me whether or not he’s on board with a plan. He’ll happily put his arms up to show me he’s ready to get out of the high chair, but if I put my hands out to show it’s time to get out of the bath, he’ll look at me, growl and leave his arms by his side. Or if I hold food out for him that he doesn’t want, he’ll put his hand up but won’t grasp it. ‘Talk to the hand, Mum. No broccoli today.’ Oh, that show of independence starts far too young, doesn’t it? 😉
I love how much he is loved by our whole ‘village’.
He doesn’t laugh out loud very often, but I love hearing that little giggle, usually when he’s being tickled by his brothers or nibbled on the neck by Daddy.
I love that in all these ways, and a million others, he amazes me, fills my heart with joy and makes me proud each and every day.