Today I had a silly conversation with my son. But we do that everyday as he seems to have my sense of humor. I laugh all the time. He does as well. We entertain one another. He’s only 11. Or should I say he is already 11? Regardless of age, he and I have fun together. And, there’s nothing more precious to me than that. He is a good boy. He is an amusing boy. He is a smart boy. And, for some reason he thinks I am way younger than I am. And by the way, our earlier silly conversation is of no importance to this piece.
However, as my son and I talk more and more I do wonder when he will finally figure out my age. At what point do we age in the eyes of our children? In all fairness, at whatever point in time they start to think of age as a lifelong concept, they already see us as “old”. I know that in my eyes my mom didn’t really grow older than 35. That was the age, at which I thought of her in terms of an age. And at that young point in my life, I was in shock that she was 35. Then, when she died I was in shock that she was no longer 35. She had been frozen in time in my mind’s eye.
I love that my son sees me as so young. Not because I want to be seen as young. I love it because I hope I can age with him.