No one does delight quite like Wade does.
You might think, because of the extra chromosome, that he has less to be delighted about than other children. The additional genetic material, however, seems to have eliminated both the sophistication of fear and the urbanity of boredom, leaving him free to dance in the moment, whatever that moment may be.
Delight for him is GRANDMA even though he just saw her 10 minutes earlier.
Delight is rain! rain! rain! even after experiencing rain! almost every day this summer.
Delight is eating a crust of bread as if it were a treasure. "Thank you, Mama!"
Delight is sausage ("Oh, YES, sausage!") for breakfast.
Delight is a perverse enjoyment in locking his brother out of the house at the front door, and then also locking every other door just as Chris arrives panting.
Delight is watching The Tigger Movie for the 100th time as if it were the 1st time, except that this time he can say the lines himself.
Delight is finding a microphone and serenading his family while they do the Saturday church cleaning. And Extra Delight is in astounding his family by doing it like King David, dancing and singing before the Lord while utterly and shockingly naked.
Delight is admonishing his brothers on table manners and ending every lecture by saying sternly, "That is vewy wude!"
Delight is reading Calvin & Hobbes on the way to and from school and finding a cartoon question he thinks is fitting, which he asks with great sincerity: "Mom, can I dwive on the way back?"
Delight is telling Daddy to shut his eyes while Wade snatches up the closest thing (a rag) and presents it (ta da!) as a gift.
And lately, delight is surprising himself. Like this, at bedtime tonight.
"May I have a dwink, Mom?"
I got the drink and gave it to him. He took it and shut his eyes tightly.
Then he said, "May I open my eyes now?"
"Yes," I said.
His eyes opened wide and he said with convincing delight, "A dwink! What a big supwise!"
And every day, like the sacred rising up through the common, his delight also becomes mine.
To live content with small means,
to seek elegance rather than luxury,
and refinement rather than fashion,
to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich,
to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly,
to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart,
to bear all cheerfully,
do all bravely,
in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,
grow up through the common.
This is to be my symphony.
--William Ellery Channing