Films About Ghosts

Its odd what a three year old remembers. He remembers songs, and why I was upset with him yesterday. I was given quite the lecture this evening at bedtime how I shouldn’t get frustrated with him, he just didn’t hear me the first four times I said it was dinner time and he needed to put his trains away. Of course he remembers his grandparents. Memere and Pepere, Grandmaman and Pepere were big parts of every day for him. We still see them on Skype. Every time he sees me pull out the computer he wants to know who we are going to talk to. His aunts, uncles, and cousins regularly figure into his conversations with us. And of course close friends’ children(Abbye, Marissa, Sophie, Cruz, and Addie mostly) that he played with a lot become part of his playtime stories they all apparently like to ride Thomas the Tank Engine trains. More amazing though are the things he recalls from before we moved, and it shows what was important to him.

 

There were two particular instances this week that struck me as astounding recalls for such a young mind. The first happened at his preschool. While putting his shoes on after class I asked him if he had made any friends in class. Of course he said he had, but he faltered when I asked him their names. With a look of bewilderment he said “I don’t know daddy”. One of the boys was sitting next to him so I prompted E to ask his name. The boy answered Caiden. To which Emmet gravely replied “No you’re not. You’re not a cheerio”. Now for this to make sense we need to flash back to E’s life from six months to a little over the age of two. We were members of the local YMCA. They had a child watch service where for ninety minutes a day I could leave him and go workout on my days off. Another mom (who in an only in Rhode Island way was the daughter in law of a lady I used to work with, although I had not met her prior to the gym) was on the same relative time schedule as us and we would see them most days we were there. Her son was almost a year and a half older than Emmet. They became fast friends, his name was Caiden. And he called Emmet “his little cheerio”, and E called him “the big cheerio”, it was adorable. But Caiden got older and went to preschool, and my schedule changed. So for the six to eight months before we left we only saw him once or twice. But that friendship made an indelible mark on my boy. It floored me because it came out of no where. He had not talked about Caiden since before we left. Evidently though his friendship had made a large impression on E.

 

The second was today while watching a video on Youtube. It was cats being silly. E loves cats. There is even a big orange tom that lives in our complex that Emmet stops and pets every time we see him. Somewhere in the middle of the video was a gray tubby kitty. Emmet got very serious, and cried. Not a tantrum three year old cry, but genuine sadness. He missed Maggie, our kitty who could not make the move with us. She went to a good friends’ home, Abbye and Marissa’s home. But he looked up at me with a pained expression and we talked for a good twenty minutes about how we all missed her but she was in a good home and we could maybe visit her when we visit Rhode Island. It was heartbreaking. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this one, and I guess I’m not. But again he hadn’t mentioned Maggie since our move and it surprised me.

 

What other memories are hiding behind those little hazel eyes, waiting to ambush me. I’m sure they won’t all be sad, but it does scare me to think that there are more tearjerkers waiting. The only thing we can do for now is to focus on making good new memories. So they can come back to bite me in a few years.

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