Some photos

Waiting to go rafting:



To level five in swim lessons:



Six years old:

The hummingbird

Yesterday in Flagstaff, a hummingbird, which had apparently been trapped in our garage, fell onto the garage floor.

I picked him up and carried him over to the porch swing. He seemed OK, but very lethargic, and had his eyes closed.

We got some sugar water for him, and tried to get him to eat.

Wyatt was next to me, and kept holding him and petting him. Wyatt said "I know he is going to die." :(

So we held him for 15 minutes or so. I offered the water again, and - the hummingbird actually put his tongue out! He drank once... twice... then fell over in my hand, instantly dead.

The only thing I can figure is that he used the very last bit of his energy to try to drink, and that was it for him.

I was sad. Wyatt was sad.

Doug got a shovel and buried the hummingbird.

I thought that was the end of it until I saw Wyatt standing by the hummingbird's grave, looking down with tears streaming down his face. I ran over to him and rubbed his back. He said "I am so sad about the hummingbird!" I said "Me too" and by now, I was crying too, because it hurt me so much to see Wyatt crying.

He said "I want to go upstairs and play Age of Empires."

"Ok," I said, and I walked up with him.

But instead of going to the computer, he walked over to the big chair, sat down and pulled the blanket over his body, and started crying again.

I sat behind him in the chair, and put my arm around him. I asked him if it was okay if I sat with him, or if he just wanted to be alone. He said "It's okay."

So we sat like that for a few minutes. I told him if he had questions, he could ask me.

He said "Mommy, I don't want the ants to eat him."

"Would you feel better if we put him into a little ziplock baggie so he will be safe?"

Wyatt nodded emphatically.

So I got a baggie and we walked back downstairs. Doug got the shovel again and dug up the grave. I took the hummingbird's tiny body, brushed the dirt off it, and put it gently into the baggie. Then we re-buried him. Grandma got a painted stone and put it on the grave as a marker.

I asked Wyatt if he felt better, and he said yes.

But he kept crying about the hummingbird on and off during the day. I explained that everything dies, and that the hummingbird died being loved and cared for instead of being eaten or shot, and he was lucky to die that way. I said it was okay to be sad about it, and told Wyatt how much I had wished the hummingbird had flown away.

Wyatt said "I knew he was going to die." I asked how. He said "I just knew it." I told him that it could have gone either way.  I told him that it is very important to hold onto hope, and to always hope the best is going to happen instead of expecting bad things to happen.

Wyatt didn't want me to leave him last night, so I brought him into our bedroom. He was holding my arm so tight, and I know he is processing death, so I suspect there are more questions coming, including the worst questions - the ones I want to shield him from but need to prepare him for.

What's strange is we have lost several pets in Wyatt's life. But I guess this was the first time he actually watched something die, so it is more real to him than a pet that just leaves to the doctor and never comes back home.

I feel so badly for Wyatt, and hope I can keep finding the right words to help him process death.

Quack!

Last night at the pool...
Me: "This pool kinda stinks today."
Wyatt: "Yeah... it smells yike a praying mantis."
??????????

Poor little Wyatt was in the sun all day and has a headache. He kept getting up and crying. The last time, I asked if he wanted me to lie down with him for a little bit, so he cuddled up to me and started falling asleep. I asked him "Are you feeling better?" and he nodded. I asked him "You just needed a little Mama love?" and he nodded again. Then he started snoring.  

Me (reading a book)
: "Constellations are when stars make pictures. Like this one is the Big Dipper, because it looks like a spoon, a dipper."
Wyatt: "I weally yike that name... Big Dipper. I yike the 'Dipper' part wuh-cause it sounds soft. Diiiiipppperrrrrrr."  

Wyatt wanted a list of reasons someone could go to jail. So I started off with murder, assault (he said "Oh I know someone who is assault. Me and Aidan!" I laughed..."No, you guys are just play-fighting. That's not assault."), kidnapping, robbery, embezzlement, drugs... and I explained what each one was.
Then I said "Oh and drinking and driving. People drink, then they don't drive very well, and they end up getting into wrecks and killing people."
Wyatt pondered for a moment, and responded... "Why don't they just get a cup holder?" 

Me, swinging Wyatt around: "I just want to make sure you always feel safe and loved." (Accidentally bump his head on the wall)
Wyatt: "Yeah... safe and yoved and head-bonked."
LOL
 




Me, looking in the mirror: "Yikes. I don't look so great today."
Wyatt: "I fink you yook...perfect. You yook yike a sweet mommy."
Me: "Awwww, thank you. I think I look tired."
Wyatt (inspecting me more closely) "Actually, you yook yike one of those ducks with the white things on their head, because you have some funky hair."
LOL... thank you, my son.