I just saw you yesterday, yet today, I notice a child whose face has filled out slightly more. You’ve gained a bit of height, and your shoes are definitely larger. I had hoped you would remain small a while longer, allowing me the time to adjust after the whirlwind of a new school year, but you’ve already aged.
You weren’t hesitant about boarding the school bus or stepping into the classroom on that first day; it’s all becoming routine now. The clothes I saved for you over the summer, believing they would last the entire school year, are already fitting too snugly. Those character socks you used to adore? They’ve become far too small for your growing feet.
Sometimes, as I observe you engrossed in video games, I catch a fleeting glimpse of the person you will become, along with the early signs of teenage angst. Your reading material has evolved; the vibrant picture books have given way to chapter books. You even tried to convince me that children aren’t allowed to read library books on the bus, so you must use electronics instead.
Your appetite is beginning to rival that of a famished tiger in the wild. Super Mario has been replaced with Minecraft. You are acutely aware of how many days remain until your 8th birthday and, quite frankly, your math skills have surpassed mine.
The pile of your completed schoolwork on the counter is growing, and thankfully, we no longer have to attend school meetings. You are starting to show signs of annoyance while playing with your younger sibling, yet you take great care to look after him. Your repeated phrases to him remind me of my own words, keeping me conscious of what I say and also giving me a bit of a scare.
You’re now pulling away from hugs sooner; you have your own activities to pursue. Although you might feel a bit disappointed at bedtime, you no longer resist it. Gone are the days of needing multiple cups of water or getting out of bed repeatedly. The little boy who once fell asleep by 9 p.m. can now stay awake until midnight or later on weekends without a single yawn.
You used to be frightened at the pool, but now you’re diving for sticks. You exhibit self-control and a reasoning ability that indicates you don’t require my assistance as much anymore. Your vocabulary has expanded, and your thoughts are now more complex, allowing you to make compelling arguments.
The Tooth Fairy is losing her charm, and just once, you raised your eyebrows at me while discussing video game characters, giving me my first “Everybody knows that, Mom.” I still try to assist you with certain tasks, but you are determined to handle them independently, and rightly so.
Yet, when you came down the hallway in your bear pajamas the other night, I couldn’t help but smile. I know that sweet, innocent boy is still within you, the one who tried to persuade me into buying electronics for the school bus. Our home remains adorned with your art projects; the cardboard castles and homemade bouncy-ball obstacle courses aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
For the moment, I’m still “Mommy,” and Dad is still “Daddy,” and you still find joy in sharing your thoughts with us. Just the other night, after brushing your teeth, you came to get us so we wouldn’t forget to tuck you in. I am incredibly proud of who you are and who you are becoming. While I want you to grow, it’s a bittersweet experience.
I recognize that your dependence on me will evolve over time. You are gradually distancing yourself, and at times I wish you needed me just a bit more. But you don’t. You’ve already matured.
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In summary, witnessing your growth is both a joy and a challenge. You are evolving into your own person, and while I cherish the memories of your childhood, I also embrace the wonderful individual you are becoming.