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In the flux of days and months, weeks and years, something mysterious occurred. My baby grew.

My toddler became a Kindergartner, who developed into a sweet little boy, who somehow established himself into a young gentleman of 12 3/4.

Within this mysterious crux of translucent time, I’ve scrambled to keep afloat, attending to needs and wants and keeping up with status quo.

Trying my very hardest to adjust, even when questions about, “boobs,” are posed, inciting impromptu, slightly flustered conversation. Even before the seemingly, chronologically correct Santa Clause chat. Appeared a little out of order to me?  Regardless, I adjusted. I calmed the storm. Told him about the female anatomy, which segued into an even more unarmed, awkward conversation about where babies come from.

So. In short, my sweetheart of a son knew the dance of the birds and bees, while still completely convinced of Santa Claus’ flight down our chimney… equipped with eight, tiny flying reindeer in tow.

Who knows

Where does the fine line of what’s age appropriate lie?… with what standards state, or with what’s staring at me square in the face?

… perhaps a 12 ¾ year old boy…fighting back tears because something was stirring within that hit him at the pre-adolescent core today. And maybe I have to waver in and out, between that thin line of toddler, let me just hold you time, and young man, let me describe the deeper meaning of all this, son of mine.

As I held him tonight, I consciously wiped away a tear, almost shedding several myself. The emotion arose not only because I empathetically embraced my son’s sorrows, but with the  conscious realization that these blessed tears are numbered. How many will I have the privilege to wipe from the cascading rims of his sweet eyes?

They will always be sweet to me, his eyes. No matter how many  linear lines of numbered years he may cross. My love grows.

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6 replies

  1. Wiping away tears as I read this. Ah, those precious boys. My son is almost 14 and this piece really struck home with me. Even in the midst teenage antics, there are those moments, when I look at him, and I see my sweet little boy. And although I love the young man that he is becoming, I so miss my little boy. Hold on tight!

  2. What you have singlehandedly done for your son. What you don’t say here, although it is implied, is the strength of love he has for you and how undoubtedly it also grows. This picture of the two of you, there for one another, is what gets right to my heart. Thank you for raising such a wonderful boy.

  3. Wow – so many emotions in this piece. The pride of watching your son grow into such a fine young man, the feelings of never knowing if you are doing the right thing, being there for him when it may have been uncomfortable for you and for him, and loving and supporting him regardless… again wow! I love this piece! It just took me through so many stages in a short time and allowed me to experience your emotions as well. I pictures you holding him and wiping those tears and him looking at you with all the trust in the world! You are doing amazing, mama!!!

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