Growing Up, One Change at a Time

I’m sad today. This weekend, it really hit me how quickly Peanut is growing up. Sure, there are signs of the little boy in him, but it’s the little changes I’m having a difficult time dealing with. All of a sudden, his adorably cute buzz cut is no longer the right one, his foot is the same size as mine, or he makes certain he is washing his face to prevent zits and using deodorant.

Gone are the days of the little boy wanting to hold my hand to cross the street. Instead, he pulls his shoulders back, looks both ways and firmly marches to his destination. When tackling projects, he does it with a look for assuredness that I don’t think I had at that age. Sitting down every afternoon to read the Financial Times makes him eager for Dad to return home for work so he can discuss credit default swaps and how microeconomic issues balloon into macroeconomic problems.

Don’t get me wrong, the little fella who wants to cuddle is still in there. But some days, I have to dig really deep to find him. While my job as a parent is to raise a well-prepared child, part of me longs for the days when he did nothing but want to lay in my arms, nurse at my breast and nuzzle into my neck when he was sleepy. The smell of milk and Dreft, instead of Old Spice Swagger and hair gel.

Memories will carry me as I watch this amazing young man grow up into the adult he is already trying to be. My manchild. I just hope for both our sakes, the thirst for adulthood doesn’t overwhelm what’s left of his childhood.

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