I go through my days making wishes. We all do I think. "I wish it would rain" "I wish this line would move faster" "I wish the kids would stop fighting"
Sometimes my wishes are vain: a waist that stayed small despite the half a Happy-Birthday-Clara-cookie-cake I ate last night. Sometimes they're philanthropic: helping people in Africa or resolving the situation in the middle east. Sometimes my wishes are sentimental: for time to slow down. More often than I can count I am Solomon asking for wisdom on how to rule this little kingdom of children.
But for tonight, for right now, what I wish is just for my son to eat. It seems like such a small wish. Not like changing the weather, or fixing national crisis, or not even for faster metabolism or wisdom. Just for Ben to eat something that is not crackers and didn't come out of a babyfood jar. I am so tired of fighting my way through every meal. Through every calorie. I am tired of therapists and well meaning advice. Even the babyfood is a struggle now. I think he would just stop eating entirely if we let him.
And so tonight, I will get back on my knees and pray for this wish. I will pray, once again, that my three year old son would learn how to eat.
Who ever would have thought?
I promised myself no more melancholy posts and so this is the last of them for a while. Hopefully not the last of my posts just the last of this cloud that seems to have settled over my writing.