such good boys

Feeling proud and worried must be most parents' primary dueling emotions?
When I am not spinning fretful fantasies or dress-rehearsing tragedy, worried whether the boys will grow up to contribute to society, worried whether they'll grow up at all, I am just astounded at how remarkably kind and smart they are.

I wonder whether they're getting plenty of vegetables or too much television, enough sleep and ample individual attention? I wonder whether they will get along or get a job, whether they'll be happy for the successes of other people, whether they'll be happy at all.

When I stop awfulizing the future and look around at right now, I am struck by how bright and intuitive and empathetic the boys are. I notice them writing computer code and reading chapter books, being acknowledged as the nice kid at school and participating in things that challenge them and cheerfully completing chores at home. And also: trying not to touch power cords or Tide pods.

I've watched the way grandparents approach our kids, even just this weekend, not quite exempt from the agonies of parental worry but able to devote themselves almost entirely to amusement and appreciation. I want to do that more now, so I don't regret not doing it later.

I am determined to be delighted, a matter of my own perspective. Instead of brooding, instead of checking the baby monitor forty three times or sanitizing the hand sanitizer (true story) I want to watch the boys play with each other, witness their bravery and brilliance and be paying attention when they're polite without prompting. I want to let pride and amusement and appreciation win.
The boys deserve that, and more.