Pan

All of our children share a room, the master bedroom, in fact. When my aunt Mimi came to live with us, we had to switch things around to make room in our little house. So she took the little boys' room, Dawn and I moved into the big kids' room and all the kids into the master. I took to calling it the nursery. Storm DID NOT think that was cool. It's been really good for them, though.

They've learned patience and teamwork. They've learned each other and bonded in ways that can only happen when 2, 3 or 4 children are openly defying their parents together. After midnight. With flashlights. And candy. They have had late night conversations that I only dare to imagine. They have slept in every combination in every bed in the room. They have switched pajamas. They have switched pillows and blankets. They have rearranged wall hangings. All of it TOGETHER. And even when I have been ready to pull my hair straight from its weary roots, I have reveled in their adoration for each other.

Dawn and I always said that we thought we would just know when it was time for Storm or Faith to move into his/her own room. And that day has come. Tonight will be Storm's first night in his own room, which means that he has spent his last night in the nursery. And I am sad.

He is my first little boy. My greatest challenge. The sweetest and most difficult of my children. The most easily hurt. The most sensitive and the most senseless. My eight-year old enigma.

The age difference between Storm and Faith (3 years) has finally become more of a distraction than a strength. Faith finally has more in common with William and Ray than with Storm. Storm is interested in big boy things, the itty bitty legos that hurt like hell when you step on them, chapter books, Erector sets. He wants to watch shows that have kids as the main characters instead of farm animals. He wants to watch Dirty Jobs and Mythbusters instead of The Backyardigans and The Wonder Pets.

So now I suppose he's also my first big boy. And I have yet another room rearranging day ahead of me. Tonight I'll tuck him in and remind him to turn off his lamp. I'll check on him later and take the book out of his hand. I'll close his door and briefly pause before heading into the much quieter nursery. And for just a second, I bet that I will miss the chaos. The pirates and the indians, my lost boys, my Pan.