This past weekend was Halloween. As I prepared the girl child to be a goth chick, I tried to convince the boy child to come out with us. He’s at that weird age where he isn’t old enough to do most things by himself, but is too old to do things with me. I really sympathize. That stage of my life drove me bonkers. He’s interested in girls, he doesn’t want to look like a little kid in front of his boys. I get it.
But, not everyone in this world is a good person, and I’ve still gotta protect my boy. There are people who take advantage of this stage, where parents begin to give their kids slack in the reins, allowing them to establish and manage freedom. So no, I’m not ready for him to go out with friends after dark. To his credit, though he didn’t want to come out, he didn’t pitch a fit, and completely understood why he couldn’t go by himself. Therefore, I didn’t give him flack about wanting to stay home, and made lil bit share her candy.
Believe it or not, him outgrowing certain Mommy things doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I get a little sad that there will be no more snaggle toothed pictures, or him mispronouncing new words. He’s slowly adopting a typically adolescent level of sarcasm (that fine line between the funny and throat chop zones). I don’t mind that he doesn’t want to kiss me in front of his school, and he walks a few steps ahead of me in the mall. He’s a respectful guy, and he’s still a nice kid; he’s simply trying to carve out his identity. He’s not my baby anymore. He’s a dude – a good dude. Maybe I’m doing something right after all.