Growing Up

He sits there and talks of Star Wars and his plans for his birthday. He tells her exactly what he wants and she listens. She asks him questions, they are having a conversation.

I stand back and watch. His profile is just the same as it always has been. He looks like such a little boy.

As he tells her how he wants his hair, my mind flashes forward too many years to a time when he doesn't need or want me to go with him.

He is growing up and that is hard.

He rides his bike so fast, with training wheels. His friend rides without, so now he wants to also. he tries and tries and tries. Many tears, much frustration and finally realizing he's not ready. His realization, not mine.

T-ball, swim lessons, Kindergarten, reading books, playing at his friends house without me -- all signs of him growing up. But when did it happen? And why is it so hard for me?

It won't be long until he is wanting the car keys, or won't talk to me, or is dating. So while I can, I'm going to snuggle him, kiss him on his neck and make him laugh so hard that milk comes out his nose.

Because I know it goes fast and I don't want to miss a second of it.