Lunch With Aron

A few days ago Aron broke his tooth off while wrestling with his brother. Today, I had the honor of taking him to the pediatric dentist to have his tooth repaired.

I had given little thought to the opportunity I had to spend time alone with Aron, but I quickly learned how important it was to my little boy, as well as to our relationship.

He is not the type of child who lets others in. It is as though he is constantly on the defensive, which makes connecting with him on an intimate level difficult on the best day. I admit, as of late I have stopped making a conscious effort to try to connect with my son; too busy, too tired, too little reward for the effort. Aron often shuts me out when I try to talk with him, so I guess I had given up. Today, I learned just how wrong I have been.

Aron was so over joyed with the prospect of being alone in the car with me, it shamed me. How had I allowed his five-years to go by without making sure we had shared a moment like this before? Why, had I not pushed harder for a deeper relationship with my beautiful little boy?

The trip to the dentist was special to him, because he had my undivided attention. He was alone with me, and that was special no matter where we were. This little boy, who has struggled with noises since birth, endured the dentists drill with scared eyes and his hands pressed tightly over his ears. But when it was over he reached for my hand and said, "Now can we go on our date mommy?"

So we went to lunch. I sat watching him aggressively eat his sandwich. Who are you Aron Elijah Harrell? Why don't I know you better? Why don't you let me in? His eyes never met mine while we ate. They darted around the room, and only stopped on mine when I held his face still in my hands. I looked into his clear blue eyes, and told him how much I love him. The comment was met with as much reaction as when I had just asked him to wipe his mouth. But I sat in the moment, just watching him from across the table. He was completely unaware of my gaze. He was beautiful. He ate with his whole heart, shoving in bites and slurping his drink, then wiping his hands down the front of his shirt. I sat in awe of this amazing stranger I love so deeply.

When it was time to go he resisted, and asked if he could get a cookie. I did not want our time together to come to an end either, so I got him a cookie. He ate it as completely as he had his sandwich, then said, "What about chips?" He could not verbalize how much he was enjoying our time together, but he made it last the only way he knew how. The chips went down much slower, and when I finally said we had to go, he carefully folded them up and put them in my handbag.

Hand in hand we walked to the car, and on the way back home I heard him say, "This was the luckiest date ever, mom."

This is not a story about a mother and son going to lunch and sharing themselves with the other through conversation. This is a story about a mother, who learned a little better how to love her son on his terms, and not her own. This is a story about allowing life's unexpected moments to speak to us, and being willing to learn from them no matter how difficult the lesson.

Thank you Aron Elijah, for teaching me how to love others better, and for loving me completely in spite of my short comings as your mother.