Way back when we were going through our infertility journey, my mother-in-law sent me to her Reikki practitioner for a session. When we were through, the woman said to me, “This one who is coming next, it’s a real character. Will make you laugh and laugh. Great sense of humor.” Now, I knew this lady knew about our infertility, and I had pretty much given up on the hope of EVER getting pregnant, so I thought to myself, “Yeah, whatever.” A few years later, a miracle occurred while we were trying to adopt: Benjamin Cleveland was born. What’s interesting is, if Becca had come first, her ‘premonition’ would’ve been wrong. With Ben, it is spot on. The very best way to describe Ben is “quite a character”. He makes us laugh, makes us scream, makes us cry, and fills our hearts so full with love we swear they’re going to burst.
You see, Ben is passionate. About everything. If he’s mad, he’s passionately mad. He yells and throws stuff and has been known to hit or kick. If he’s excited, watch out. He yells and throws stuff and rolls on the floor. From Thanksgiving Day (the day the Christmas Elves arrive at our house) until Becca’s birthday (it goes Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year’s-Ben’s birthday-Becca’s birthday), he is completely illogical. He’s so excited about getting presents, about using his own money to give presents (each year he goes with Eric to the dollar store and carefully selects his own gifts; my dad got an army helmet, my mother-in-law got a book, my father-in-law got a pancake flipper) that we cannot even TRY to reason with him. He hits the sheets every night exhausted from being so keyed up with joy. Ben gets so crazily “into” Christmas that we have to take breaks from opening presents. One of my favorite memories is of him at age four opening a present from my in-laws and yelling, “Pants-is! Grammie got me pants-is!” Who gets excited over pants at four? Benjamin Cleveland.
When he was three, it was Buzz and Woody. Everything in his world had a Toy Story theme. He had the sheet set and shirts and books and, of course, every single toy they made. We had the indescribable pleasure of taking Ben to Disney World that year, where he enthusiastically met every character, with a highlight of Buzz and Woody. His face was purple and his veins were bulging, he was so deliriously happy. It was honestly one of the highlights of my life.
On that trip, we also saw Playhouse Disney on stage, a bunch of puppets from the Disney Channel. Ben was also VERY into Mickey Mouse Clubhouse at the time, with Goofy as his very favorite (let’s be real; who DOESN’T love Goofy best?). One of the usherettes stood behind us during the entire show and watched Ben and laughed as he danced, sang, and yelled out to the characters. He got super rambunctious at one point, yelling, “Goof, it’s me, Ben-Ben! Goofy! I gotta tell ya somethin’!” I finally had to pull him into my lap and explain that Goofy was working, he was doing his stage show, and we couldn’t talk to him then. I told him we’d find Goofy later in the day and he could talk to him then. So, as promised, we looked all over and found a Goofy. We waited in line and Ben kept pulling on my arm, trying to rush up to the front, saying, “Mom, I gotta tell him somethin’!” When it was finally our turn, Ben rushed up ahead of me, poked Goofy in the leg, and said, “Goof! It’s me, Ben-Ben! I gotta tell ya somethin’!” like it was a line he’d been rehearsing all day. Goofy dutifully leaned over and lifted his ear. Ben stood on his tip-toes and whispered into the fuzzy ear. Then, he gave Goofy a hug, got his photo, and returned to me, a giant smile squeezing his chubby cheeks. “Well, what’d you say?” I asked as I took his hand. “Mom!” Ben retorted, “That’s between me and Goof!” To this day, we don’t know what he said.
Currently, he’s into the Golden State Warriors and, of course, the Detroit Tigers. Ask him anything, he can answer it. I love watching him shock men in their 60s and 70s with his player stats and trade agreement discussions after they make a comment about a jersey he’s wearing. The boy’s a nut, and he’s always right.
He’s a character, my boy, and, though he can push every single one of my buttons in six seconds flat, I couldn’t love him more.
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