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That's what little boys are made of. Or so the poem goes.
This one is made of a few more things. And there are very clear and acute moments in life that I get a glimpse of exactly what he is made of.
A boy in his class has diabetes. His father came in to the class to talk to them about the disease and Johnny's insulin pump. The father was explaining about how everybody is different when Lance raised his hand to help further explain, "We all have things to make us go. I have these glasses to help me, my brother has his wheelchair to help him go, and Johnny has his pump. That's just the way it is."
The dad also explained about genetics and how things are passed from our parents to us. Lance asked me about genetics when he got home.
"Mom, is CDG genetic?"
I was sad to answer, but I explained to him that it was. To which he replied,
Fist-pumping, "YES!!!! I SOO want a CDG son or daughter!"
I laughed and cried. He wants this?! Despite all the challenges of this journey that affect him - all of the things we can't do, all of the things that are cut short because of Bridger's screaming or health, etc., he loves this journey. Not many over-indulged, self-absorbed, overly entitled little 8 year olds out there would say that. He absolutely has the heart of an angel.
Bridger recently had a scary accident. Sparing the details, it involved Bridger strapped in his wheelchair falling down three porch stairs and landing face first on a large slate rock. I was out of town at the time so Alan had to calmly and quickly collect all the kids and drive them down the mountain the 40 minute ride to the hospital from the cabin. Because of the severity of the concussion and skull fractures, Bridger was drifting off to sleep immediately. Because of the mouth injury, Bridger had a pretty steady flow of blood coming from his mouth. As Alan drove, Lance's job was to keep Bridger awake and to wipe the blood from his mouth. In his little 8 year old mind, he thought Bridger was dying, and it was job to keep him alive. He kept wiping the blood from his mouth and saying, "Come on Bridger, you can make it" all the way to the hospital. He truly is a big hero in a little boy's body.
When I got back in town, we, appropriately, threw a "Hero Party" for Lance and the others that were heroes in their own way. The greatest place you can eat a hero dinner, so says the kids, is in the Fairfax hospital cafeteria. Luckily, we have standing reservations there.
I'd like to claim it was my mothering that created this brave, selfless, loving, tender soul. But I know better, and have come to realize that he came to our family just that way.
9 years ago I became a mom. I went into labor at Krispy Kreme doughnut and am convinced that is why this slightly overdue baby decided to come into the world - to partake of the wonderful delight of doughnuts for himself. He is my doughnut-aholic, fishing frenzy, rib eating, collecting scrap metal to melt down to make his own helicopter, book worm, super scout and I couldn't be more in love with him!
Happy 9th Birthday Brother Bear!
