At least, that’s what my email just informed me. What epidemic? Why, that of the Wedgie! I know, I was excited too. Hanes has declared success on the panty crawling problem. These are the things I wake up to in my mailbox - I’m certain I couldn’t have lived another day without knowing of their success!
Or something.
It’s been a hard week for me. My baby boy turned 16 on Monday. Sixteen! How is that even possible? I’m not old enough to have a 16 year old son, despite what the numbers say! Harumph. He’s very pleased - though less pleased that I waited so long to get his permit so he couldn’t go off driving moment’s after midnight. Of course - said permit? Stolen, along with his wallet, the day after we got it. I have to get him a replacement one, and go about the whole teaching him to drive business, so in 5.5 more months he can get his provisional license.
Sigh.
So along with the whole Boy One Step Closer To Becoming A Man business, there’s also the bittersweet pang of how proud I am of him, and how much Kevin had looked forward to these teenage years with his son. He talked all the time about teaching him to drive, how it would be to watch his son grow and expand and discover how good it was with a teenager who didn’t have the same problems that Kevin had growing up. It’s all he wanted to see - his kids growing up happy, healthy, and people to be proud of. As much as I love this stage with my children, it makes me ache inside, too.
Especially when The Boy goes exploring in our pit of stuff (the garage) and discovers things he and Kevin used to share, that he’d forgotten about. Recently he found the box of Slot Cars, that he and Kevin and Papa spent a year or so obsessing over. They bought and built and raced and bickered and laughed and had a ball with fast little cars when the boy was about 3 or 4 years old, right up until Jeep sold the racing place. It was achingly beautiful to see his face soften, his eyes shine as he whispered “I remember these!” while handling the cars and all the goodies that were in the box.
Sigh.
And for the record? THIS is what 16 looks like….
And, apparently, when your 16, and your party isn’t until Friday, you don’t spend the evening at home with your mother who keeps saying things like “MAH BABY’S 16!!!” and threatening him with birthday spankings. No, you spend the evening with your friends, of course. (chuckles) I dunno why I was surprised… heh.
