I saw you just yesterday, but today, it’s as if I’m meeting a new version of you. Your face has filled out a bit more, you stand a little taller, and those shoes of yours? They seem to have grown overnight. I had hoped to keep you small for just a while longer, allowing my heart to catch up after the whirlwind of a new school year, but here we are—you’re already older.
You confidently hopped on the school bus and walked into your classroom on the first day, as if it were second nature. The clothes I thought would last the entire year are already tight, and those adorable character socks you loved? They’ve become too small for those growing feet.
While I sometimes watch your face as you navigate video games, I catch fleeting glimpses of the young adult you’ll soon become, complete with the hints of teenage challenges on the horizon. Your choice of library books has shifted dramatically; those vibrant picture books are now replaced by chapter books that reflect your expanding interests. You even tried to convince me that you couldn’t read on the bus, insisting electronics were the way to go instead.
Your appetite now rivals that of a wild animal, and while Super Mario once ruled your gaming world, you’ve shifted gears to Minecraft. You can even count down the days until your 8th birthday, showing off math skills that outstrip mine.
The counter is filled with your schoolwork, all completed without the need for parent-teacher meetings. You’re starting to outgrow your little brother—though you still care for him, your patience wears thin. It’s amusing and a bit alarming to hear you echo my words back to him, reminding me of the influence I have on you.
You’ve begun to shy away from hugs a bit quicker, immersed in your own endeavors. Bedtime, once a battle, is now accepted without fuss. The little boy who used to fall asleep by 9 p.m. now stretches his evenings to midnight and beyond, especially on weekends.
Once afraid of the swimming pool, you now dive confidently for diving sticks. Your self-control and reasoning have blossomed, and you’re becoming less dependent on me. Your vocabulary has grown, and your arguments are well-constructed, reflecting your increasing maturity. The Tooth Fairy? Not as magical as it once was.
The other day, as we discussed video game characters, you raised your eyebrows at me, delivering my first, “Everybody knows that, Mom.” I still try to help, but you prefer to tackle things on your own, and rightly so. Yet, when you strolled down the hall in your bear pajamas, I was reminded of the sweet, innocent little boy who once tried to persuade me to buy him electronics for the school bus.
Your art projects still adorn our home, and the cardboard castles and obstacle courses you create show no signs of disappearing. For now, I’m still “Mommy,” and Dad remains “Daddy.” You still light up when sharing your latest adventures, and even after brushing your teeth, you come to find us, ensuring that we don’t forget to tuck you in.
I take immense pride in the person you’re becoming. While I want you to grow, it’s a bittersweet journey. I recognize that your reliance on me will evolve as time passes. You’re moving further away, and at times, I wish you needed me a little bit more. But the truth is, you’re already older.
Further Reading
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In summary, witnessing your growth is a bittersweet experience that fills me with pride and nostalgia. As you navigate through life, I’ll cherish these moments and continue to support you as you become more independent.