My son, the light of my life, is about to turn nine years old. A week and a half left for me to enjoy his eight-year old self and brain. As an eight year old, he started solving more and more problems independently and liked it. He enjoys reading books. Although, he primarily loves watching videos and playing games.
He is also getting closer and closer each day to reaching my height. I am, admittedly, a bit sad but also immensely proud by that. I can easily fit into his shoes with barely an inch of space to breathe. As the Steve Miller Band noted decades ago, time is just slippin’, slippin’, into the future. I need to fly like an eagle.
As an eight year old, he has definitely been vocal about his opinions. I would even say moreso the last month. He readily shares his views on neighbors, television shows, Trump, and just the world, in general. I’ve been in a perpetual state of shock at how his transformation into a real him an and a little man was been occurring at a rapid clip. I had no idea he kept up with politics at such a quick pace.
I must prepare myself and steel myself mightily for next week when he turns nine. That is such a major turning point. He will be on the cusp of adolescence. To think, puberty can hit at the age of nine. It did for my cousin. Oh my. I just had a horrific thought. Is nine considered a tween? What will I do with myself.
As he stands on the cusp of a new developmental era in his life, the inevitable happened today. He called me weird. At first he said I was a little weird. Then he said he took it back and that in just weird. Oh my. I honestly don’t remember when I first thought my mom was weird. I just wasn’t prepared for it today as we went school supply shopping. Adnittedly, I live shopping for supplies a lot more than he does. It’s ok. I bought him some fun stuff as well.
But back to me. I’m weird now. Sigh. Do I now get to wear the t-shirt that says mommy needs a cocktail? Oh wait, I already have that one.
Here’s really my question. When do I become the cool mom?