Monday, Sept. 21, 1998: Mathieson (three months) rolls over for the first time. The doctor’s predictions about fat delays don’t pan out. The whole family’s there, feeling the best everyday joy about the best kind of everyday high point. Spence can’t stop laughing. Matt is a beautiful, sweet-natured boy.
Friday, December 3, 1999: The boys and I go out to shovel. Spence is thrilled, happy to see the pavement under the snow. Matty (one-and-a-half now) is a tough man. He falls fairly repeatedly, and once while helping him up I drop the shovel on his head. That might not have been the best idea. But there’s never a squawk. He just walks around with a kind of benevolent, extremely interested look on his face.
Wednesday, Jan. 26, 2000: I put Matty on a very brief, ten second time out. A minute later he comes back and throws a bottle of nail polish at my head.
Wednesday, February 9, 2000: Matt is coming to bed on a nightly basis. He knees and elbows and plants his feet in your back and tosses covers all over. The worst thing is his grand bum-whomp—he digs in his heels, arches his back and then releases. It’s rhythmic, it’s repeated—it’s aggravating! He sure is a nice guy, though.
Thursday, March 9, 2000: “Matty, come and blow your nose.” Before I can even get the Kleenex down he puts his hands up and blows everything out into them. Pretty pleased with this accomplishment he starts to walk around, blowing every which way.
Friday, March 31, 2000: We have some family soccer at the middle school. Matty (cf. Sarah, Glasgow, 1995) dribbles very well. He got to the net and found me in the way. “Hey!” he said. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, he thought for a moment. His face brightened as an idea occurred to him. “Scuze me!”
Tuesday, April 11, 2000: Spencer and Matt have become an impressive praying tandem. Spence volunteers at every opportunity, and does a very nice job too. He concentrates on safety while Matty, like the geese in the Grimms’ tale, just honks along in harmonious solidarity.
Saturday, May 6, 2000: Matt falls asleep during the Leafs' game. Spence comes around the corner and sees him. I watch as he’s literally washed o’er by a feeling of love for his brother. He kneels beside him, beams all around, caresses his hair and his back and his soft hands and feet. He doesn’t mind his runny nose. He talks to him and about him. He lays his head down on him, kisses him, gives a last beatific smile, and then sweetly falls asleep.
