5th Grade Senior Citizen

Peanut and I were hanging out earlier today, watching TV and just relaxing. After a Lego Duplo commercial went off the air, he looked at me and said, “Mom, life was so much easier back then. Now, I am the senior citizen of elementary school.”

How do I respond? By saying, “I know that growing up is difficult, but we all do it”. “That’s what happens to us all.” What about, “we can’t be small forever”. Some days, I wish there were a manual that would tell me exactly how to respond to some of these questions.

As we are going thru life, we are trying to do our best. Encouraging him to be a little boy and not grow up too fast. Letting him pace himself with his intelligence, instead of falling prey to those pushing to have him skip a few grades. It’s not easy. My husband I and joke, somewhat seriously, that if we were toys, we would be from the “Island of Misfit Toys”. So, it’s two misfits trying to raise a well-adjusted child.

Yet, at times, I find myself wondering if I had that wisdom when I was in 5th grade. Did I have the “5th grade senior citizen” mindset? I don’t think I did. While smart, I wasn’t that cerebral. My life was different. When I was in 5th grade, I think I truly thought like a senior citizen. I was more worldly due to a multitude of things. My parents separating, moving in with my Grandparents and the fear that my mother would be abused again.  That’s a lot to take in.

While typing this, I realize that his senior citizen thoughts are his own. His wisdom. My dear friend, John, has always wants to look at his eyes. He’s mesmerized by them and the aged wisdom he possesses. “An old soul”, he calls him. He is an old soul, piercing you with the look of knowledge. Living 5th grade, in this lifetime, could just be tiring as he’s waiting for the day he’s old enough to manifest his own destiny, on his terms.

No matter what it is, I want to see the vigor of youth to continue filling him with light and joy. To hear his laughter. That little boy giggle, that I love so much. Knowing that sooner, than later, I will be hearing the laughter of a young man. Maybe this is more about me, mourning the loss of the little boy who said so many times “Mommy is the most beautiful woman in the world”. To the tween he is today, obsessed with fast European Imports and hanging on Daddy’s every word and action.

Whatever it may be, I will continue writing this manual of life, in hopes that my parental influence, will serve well enough for him, when it’s his time to ask the parenting oracle. Maybe by then, I will have learned enough to be his guide. Only time will tell.

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