Felix is intense and sensitive. I don’t think I realized that about him until he learned how to talk. But he’s not only sensitive to mean talk or unwanted instruction, he’s sensitive to the needs of his family members. If he’s got more than one of something, he often offers some to his brothers.
Last weekend, when I took the big boys for haircuts, he happily stood aside while Miles claimed the first stylist available. Then, even though his haircut finished first, he happily waited for his brother to be done before starting to eat his lollipop, so they could enjoy pops together.
Rather than cut-throat competitiveness like some people in our family, he prefers to wait until everyone is ready for things like walks home from the stop sign or enjoying dessert.
Sure, he gets pissed off and, in spectacular fashion, kicks a damn hole in the drywall at daycare before crawling inside like Andy Dufresne in Shawshank Redemption. But he also carries around a baby doll starts each morning by carefully tucking her into some blankets and fluffed pillows on the couch.
He has a fantastic imagination, and offers me the first magical glimpses of a child who pretends things–really pretends and imagines new scenarios. He drags squares of blue fabric to be water and arranges frogs and plastic ocean mammals to swim. He takes plastic sea lions with him into the bathtub so they can hunt for fish he also brings into the bath tub.
He loves, loves, loves to sing, “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg. The Batmobile lost a wheel and Joker did ballet.”
And he watches Jake and the Neverland Pirates while he eats astounding amounts of cheese. This boy rejects celery for being too spicy, can balance on one leg while riding his scooter, and clasped his hands in delight when given a pack of 8 tubes of Chapstick.
I worry frequently that I don’t pay proper attention to him. I’m always overwhelmed by one or the other of his brothers. I see now how middle children get lost in the shuffle.
I don’t read books with Felix like I did with Miles, but I try to take him to the Aviary as much as I can because I love watching him love birds there.
All he wants in the world is for someone to play with him, preferably his brothers, but really anyone who wants to climb on top of the gravel pile in the construction zone next door and push a truck. But not the garbage truck–that one is his, and he’s busy refueling it with the tubing he stole from my breast pump.