I like them.

Yesterday I was sitting in church when I heard the cry of my oldest son coming from the hallway.  I turned to see him in the arms of a friend, that friend motioning for me to join him in the hall.  I passed off Austin (thanks Heather) and went to see what the trouble was.  Jack did not wish to go to his class.

"I want to be with Taywor," he sobbed.

Taylor joined Jack in primary this year.  The beginning of 2010 meant Taylor was now a Sunbeam and rather than play and snack for 2 hours in nursery, he would sit still and sing and go to class with a planned lesson.  Jack has been more thrilled about this graduation than Tays, telling Taylor how great it is. But I failed to explain that Tays would be in a younger class and although they'd be in the same room for part of it, they'd be sitting in different places, then going to different classrooms.  

When I'd dropped them off at primary earlier, Jack had insisted that Taylor sit with him and the primary president assured me that it was fine.  An hour later, when it came time for them to go to their individual classes, Jack melted down.  Taylor was happily participating with his class, but Jack was not okay with this separation.  "I just want Taywor to come to my class,"

I sat on the couch with him and although he was now calm, he was not changing his mind about it.  And I found myself in one of those parenting moments where you know you have to require a certain behavior, but your heart is melting because you love him so much in that moment.  I loved that Jack wanted to be with Taylor.  They are buddies and while I recognize that this is an important step in Jack getting comfortable with the idea of school, I adore him and can appreciate how he is feeling in the moment.  Taylor is with him all the time, ALL THE TIME.  They do everything together.  As I type this they are hunting for spiders, and as they "find" one they'll run across the kitchen and hide behind Kev's big chair.  They are whispering out a plan to squish before a spider can suck their blood.

Finally I was able to convince Jack that if he could go to the big kid class, he would be big enough to crack the eggs when we  made a cake after church.  This is a task we both agreed would be too hard for Taylor, as he is still to little.  He would just squish the eggs for sure, which is why he needs to go to the younger class.

When it was time to pick up the boys, I got Tays first.  His sweet teacher had given him an extra treat for Jack.  Jack was dancing happily when we arrived at his door, and he had a fist full of little cookies he'd saved up so he could share with his brothers.  As they swapped treats and shared with Noah, I was so proud of my little boys and how they are growing up but staying sweet.  It does my heart good and gives me hope for the many transitions that lie ahead.