Today is my son's fourteenth birthday. FOURTEEN! I am the mother of a teenaged boy who next year will be starting HIGH SCHOOL. I'm doing my best to ignore this fact, the idea that I am possibly old enough to be the parent of such a child. But that number 14 keeps sneaking up ever so stealthily and tapping me on the shoulder.
"Hello old lady." says Fourteen.
"Hi." I mutter and walk away.
You see I need more time. Somehow I expected to be wiser at this juncture. I expected to be a veritable bank of wisdom -- handing out knowledge like a millionaire dispensing dollar bills. But me? I'm still making my way. And this poor boy is along for the bumpy ride. Truth-be-told he's taught me more than I'll ever teach him.
And, very soon, this young man will be venturing out into the world without me. Eeegads. I'm still mourning the loss of the toddler he once was. That precious little boy who held my hand and told me all about his day playing on the dar-bee-two (barbeque).
Today he really is a young man. Taller than me and muscular. And living a life that isn't necessarily Mama centered -- fishing, texting, WWF (and we're not talking the world wildlife federation here). Him and Papa are two peas in a pod -- as it should be for a boy making his way in life.
He is a spectacular kid and I'm so very proud of who he is and who he will become.
Happy Birthday Baby!
And now, if you'll excuse me, I must wipe the tears from my eyes and make that child some cupcakes.
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