Our son is this fountain of big feet, smelly-sweaty armpits, deep voice, acne, surly attitude, exasperation and brilliance. At 13 years old he is officially a teenager and while I know the passage of time marches on it still seems to me that I am frozen at 30 years old with a 2lb 14oz wee baby who nursed until he was 4 1/2 years old. He is still much the same person as he was then just in this huge, gangly, unweildy package of budding man-ness. His voice his deep and unfamiliar even though his topics are much the same. He has recently found a fondness for magic and is constantly opening his bedroom door while I am trying to use the bathroom and asking me if I want to see a magic trick?
I think he is magical enough growing into this smart, caring, loving, funny and adventurous guy who loves to be outside, enjoys sleeping and continues to do all his chores half-assed.
He is this big boy and sometimes I feel so helpless watching him grow up inside and out wanting to squash it all, make it stop or at least slow the hell down. Our big boy is off to sleepaway camp with his middle school this week and I wonder how his younger sister will fare without her big brother that she pretends to detest but I know deep inside adores. Well, I hope down deep she adores.
This people making/raising business is just bizarre but I like it, even if it scares me.