Emmett

Emmett has an interesting relationship with Jason.  The boys are extremely different in so many ways, and these differences are most evident to Emmett himself.  Often Emmett will sigh, completely exasperated, saying only, "Ugh...Jason is being so ADHD."  Or he will bemoan  how sensitive his brother is.  Instead of being empathetic when Jason finds himself in a puddle of tears, Emmett will make snarky comments like, "Jason is just being emotional."   Jason's proneness to being hyper-sensitive and accident prone will frustrate Emmett to no end.  "I'm just a lot tougher than Jason," he'll tell me.  

Of course, understanding how easily Jason can be riled up, Emmett will use that very tactic when he's mad at his brother: needling him when he is angry at something Jason has said or done.

However, Emmett is also strangely protective of his Jason.  One day, on the way to school, Jason couldn't tie his shoes, and was getting more and more frustrated the closer we got to drop-off.  Finally Emmett decided to tie the shoes for him.  While he was doing it, though, he told Jason, "You know, you will get teased if kids knew that I tied your shoes."  Jason just happy responded, "I know I will," and the conversation was over.  

Another time, Jason was talking about how a friend had invited him play at a park with him, but a second friend was going to join them.  Concerned, Emmett said, "Is the other kid a friend or a bully?"  Jason was quick to respond with, "Oh, he is a friend.  One of my best friends."  "Good." grumbled Emmett.  "Then I won't have to go over and punch his face."  It was an oddly tender moment for Emmett.

Emmett loves to play with Jason.  They can be best friends so much of the time.  The other day when Emmett was sick, he waited impatiently all day until Jason would come home to play with him.  He kept making me count down the time until I would pick him up.  Then, when Jason got here, Emmett quickly got irritated with something that Jason was saying, and told him to go away.  Jason had been trying to give his lego creation a dragon voice and talk in "dragonese."   Emmett was not handling that childishness.  Jason shrugged it off and went to a neighbor's house.  Emmett was so distraught after that.  He kept telling me how he wanted Jason to play with him, but he didn't want to play with him at the same time.  "I don't understand why I feel this way," he told me.  It was a war within himself between his impatience with Jason's dramatic, creative side and his own, innate need for order and reason.  It came out with a push when all he wanted to do was pull.

I've always called Emmett my little porcupine.  He is all push, stern and logic.  When he gets sad, mad, frustrated, irritated, hurt or lonely, the reaction is always the same.  He shuts down all emotion around him, and barricades his heart.  He wants no touching, no hugs, and most certainly, no words of comfort.  Except, he craves touching, hugs and words of comfort...just deep, deep inside.  He needs it in a way that he can't express.

When Emmett gets upset, I usually give him a little time to simmer.  Then I make small overtures until I can work myself past his barricades.  First comes some kind words from his doorway.  In time, I will make my way to his bed and sit next to him, possibly testing the waters with a hand on a shoulder.  Usually, that is too much, too quick, so I retreat for a small time until I return.  The dance continues; I walk in, sit closer, touch just a little bit more, say a few more kind things or ask careful questions.  Sometimes I just end up laying next to him while he grumbles, yells or cries.  Eventually I will be able to give him the hug he wants and help him understand his feelings, but it takes so much careful work.  Past all those sharp, quills, my sweet little boy is so tender.

It is easy, sometimes, to believe that Emmett is older than he is.  And tougher.  When he talks like a grown adult and can verbally spar with the best of them, it is easy to forget that he is just a nine year old boy.  However, when I read our chapters of Percy Jackson at night, he cuddles right into my side, often throwing his body across my legs so I can scratch his back while he listens.  

Often, in the middle of the night, he will wake up with leg cramps or bad dreams, and come between Robert and me to sleep.  Usually, he'll press his back up against Rob's or throw his little arms over his head, trying to be closer.

Every morning, when he wakes up, he crawls into bed with me and kinda demands that I scratch his back and his arms and his legs.  He'll then hug me and tell me he loves me and give me short bursts of hugs or snuggles.

So, there you are; mornings and nights, the two times he allows himself to be a little boy, and I take and hoard those golden opportunities like a dragon with treasure.  Because soon enough, that little boy will be gone and I don't want to waste a moment.