Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Dear Hyrum,

Dear Hyrum,

I wish my writing could capture the image of you in the dentist's chair.

When in the dentist's chair, my little whirling dervish--my Tasmanian devil--adopts an alter ego.

Yesterday, you climbed into the chair, fully aware that this experience would involve shots, drills, black lights, and disgusting numbing gel that tastes like the bananas you despise.

Not a moment's hesitation. You calmly waited. No iPad. No iPhone. No TV. Placid and chill.

The dentist began explaining what would happen. No reaction. He used the banana gel. No gagging. He inserted the shot and gently jiggled my little boy's brown-eyed face. No fight.

Three fillings and . . . nothing from you. The dentist repeated, "Dude, you're a rock star! Doing great, Buddy." He even sang part of "Everything Is Awesome" from The Lego Movie and asked you if you liked that movie. Not even a nod.

Thirty minutes in the chair was all it took--and that included waiting for the anesthetic to work. The dentist explained that you needed to be careful not to chew your cheek while it was numb. Barely audible, you said "Ok."

And we were out of there, two treasures from the token machine in your hand--a white ninja and an orange bouncy ball.

I knew it was lunchtime and I also knew that you wouldn't be able to eat what I'd packed for you that morning. Before stopping at the school, we came home and I mixed up a quick smoothie of your choice--strawberry yogurt, strawberries, mangoes, and peaches. I filled a thermos with your treat (you'd think I'd taken you to McD's or somewhere equally awesome), and we got back in the Suburban.

After signing you in at the desk, you gave me a quick side hug before walking to Room 18. I couldn't help myself: I watched you until you turned the corner, a thermos in one hand and a candy-striped straw in the other. I felt like my heart would burst with love for my littlest boy. My brave little boy who faces the dentist too frequently. My wild little boy who often plays too rough and hits too hard. My loving little boy who tells everyone that I'm his girlfriend. My tender little boy who still hugs and kisses his mom no matter where we are.

That last glimpse before you turned the corner: I knew in that moment that this time in life is almost over. The time when I can make you so happy with a paper straw and time together in the kitchen. The time when you'll kiss me before class, and the time when those big brown eyes always search for me first.

I don't want you to ever grow up, my little boy.

I'll love you forever, Rum. I'll like you for always.

As long as I'm living,



  1. Now you've made me cry. This was for every mom who ever loved a crazy little boy with big brown eyes. (Or any colored eyes.) I myself had two of the brown eyed type and it still kills me to realize they are all grown up - one with babies of his own. Very sweet, Jen.

  2. oh little boys and their mothers...what a treasure.

  3. I'm with Karen. Teary and remembering my own boys.

    And my grandson, Bryce, who (it still seems) would be very good buddies with your Hyrum. They appear to be two of a kind.


  4. that last part made my nose tingle and my eyes water....
    im with you...i wish they stayed this way forever (as long as i didn't age too...i couldn't have a 5 yr old at 90) :)