The oldest is twelve today and completely and totally in the throngs of puberty. It's strange, but with my son, I'm good with watching him grow up. Tonight, my sister said that the boy looked older...like a man, not a little boy any more. It's true...I see him on the baseball field, or with his friends and he's one of the bigger kids out there. I love seeing him grow strong. Whereas when I see the little one growing up, I want to keep her little...for as long as possible. But with the oldest...I want to see him get older.
I think I actually have this one figured out though...with the oldest, I'm counting on him to take care of me when he's older. He's supposed to grow up big and strong. He's supposed to be smart and rich and have everything so that when I'm a dottering old fool, he'll be there to take care of me. With the little one...she's my baby...I want her to stay little and young b/c that means I'm young too.
Ah...the dichotomy.
Anyhoo...the oldest is twelve and I dig the hell out of that kid.
PS. In other news, I found my favorite candy this weekend at Jungle Jim's and now my teeth hurt.
PPS. The little one says, "He is old! He has armpit hair, I saw it!!!"
2 comments:
As I sat this weekend watching every war movie/documentary ever made, I remembered your story about being in labor during Memorial Day weekend and having nothing to watch but those same shows. So oddly enough, I knew one of your kids birthdays was coming up.... as Joey would say, wiieerd.
And the armpit hair comment is amazing.
Sigh...I clearly tell too many stories during those two years you poor people are stuck with me...
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