The Wise One

Sometimes I think there's something about Mason that makes him a lot different than other three-year-olds.

I'm sure every mother thinks that - after all, everyone thinks their child is the most wonderful, special, beautiful thing on the planet. But Mason just seems... different. Different in a way that makes him wise for his age. Knowledgeable, somehow. I'm not even sure how to explain it.

For example, we went to Bland's Park last weekend. Amusement parks kill me. Now, I love a good rollercoaster as much as the next person, but it always makes me a little sad for the human race that we have to pay a bunch of money to get on these man-made rides in order to have a little fun and enjoyment in our lives. Store-bought entertainment and it's only good if someone's making a giant profit. And then you see all these people with their families and you can tell it's just painful to try to stick a smile on their faces. They're moping on benches, complaining about the heat, and most of them are even frowning while they're on the rides. Anyway, Mason rode all the rides with this serious, stoic look on his face. All of them - the cars, the elephants, the firetrucks. It wasn't that he didn't like them, he actually did smile quite a bit, but he wasn't cheesing all over the place like the other kids, either. It was as if he was trying to figure out how the ride worked or maybe he was thinking the same things I was about the downfall of the human race. I'm not sure. Mason is just constantly observing. Thoughtful. Sometimes he looks at me with those big eyes and I know he knows everything that's going through my head. It's crazy, really.

And then today, during dinner, I asked him what he did at daycare. After a few seconds of what appeared to be careful consideration, he says, "I breathed today at Georgi's".

When I realized he was talking about the deep breathing I've been teaching him to do when he gets sad or frustrated, I was amazed. I've never seen him do it on his own, and I've only had him do it with me a couple times. I asked him why he had to breathe and he said that the other boys wouldn't help him clean up. He's three. Three years old and he's deep-breathing instead of hitting or yelling. And there was no mention of what he had for snack or what games they played outside.

He just breathed.