My younger son is no longer a baby. I mean, I knew that, but it’s official. He can get his own breakfast (cereal or frozen waffles), he is headed to 1st grade in September where there are no naps anymore, he’s a yellow belt in karate, and he’s fighting back against his brother in wrestling and sometimes winning. I am going to donate (maybe) the last crib sheet and blanket (although I may keep them just because I’ve had them so long and the blanket was from when I was in the hospital giving birth to him. You know what, I’m keeping it.) So, let’s make that, I no longer need to keep the crib sheet and blanket ready for nap time at school. My little one can climb up on the counters in the kitchen (something I didn’t know until he did it) and get snacks from the snack cabinet. He no longer wants kisses unless it’s bedtime. He’s growing up and becoming a cool big kid. He’s only 6!
My older boy is officially a tween. He’s 9 and his favorite things are video games. His favorite plaintive cry is, “But all my friends get to do it!” He gets dinner (microwaved stuff) for himself and his brother. He has read all of the Harry Potter books already, and seen all the movies. He’s only 10 inches shorter than me. Granted, I’m only 5’2″, but still. He’s into Pokemon (which have been around FOREVER), Minecraft, and Skylanders (both of the latter are video games). He’s definitely a big kid now. I am proud of the young man he’s becoming, it’s just happening too fast for my liking!
Sorry, I know this isn’t green or thrifty or ethical, but I’m contemplating age and maturity as my 40th birthday moves inexorably closer. My boys still need me, but they’re getting so big that they no longer need me in the ways I’m used to. It’s going to be an adjustment, but also an adventure.