This morning Peter ran into my room, very excited to show me the telescope and binoculars he made from paper, tape and staples.
“Can I bring them with me when Tom and I visit Grandpa today? I want to show them to him.”
“Of course. I think he will love to see them.”
“Mom, they aren’t real you know. He broadly smiles and starts to laugh.”
“Yes, I know.” Now we are both laughing.
“Mom, can I get a big hug?”
With that he jumps in my arms, and I feel his skinny arms around my neck. He kisses me on my cheek and then I kiss him right back. His skin is so soft.
What a contrast from his 17 year old brother — whose face now sports a shaggy beard. Tom rarely kisses me on my cheek anymore because he favors the top of my head. It’s easy for him to get to because he is at least five inches taller than me.
Peter is the only member of my family that is still shorter than me. And I love it. I love 10 years old.
I’m doing my best to savor every bit of this age before we move on to 11, which will bring middle school, a few pimples, and probably braces.
I only have a few more weeks left in the land of 10. Because he is my youngest, it will be my very last visit.
He is changing almost by the hour. I can see glimpses of what’s to come. One minute he is hugging me and asking me questions about what he was like as a baby. The next he is complaining that he is not old enough to drive or shave.
I love 10 because, although he can do so much more for himself, he is still a child. He now only needs to be reminded, (usually a million times) to brush his teeth and take a shower. I no longer have to stand watch over him or wait near the bathroom just in case he gets into trouble with the shampoo.
Peter still thinks I’m cool and smart. He comes to me with his questions and problems fully expecting me to be able to help him. When we go to the library or out for a slice of pizza, he will even occasionally let me take his hand.
He no longer needs me to wait for his bus each day, but he is always glad to see me when I do. Since I have two teenagers, this is really good for my ego. He hasn’t given me the eye roll yet that Tom and Lizzy have mastered.
But it’s coming. I know it is.
It such a cliche to say it all goes so by fast, but boy, does it all go by so fast.
The other night at dinner, the kids and I were eating and talking about the latest movies we wanted to see and the day’s events. They all seemed so grownup. I couldn’t take it a minute longer. If I couldn’t stop them from getting older, at least I could act younger.
I threw a spitball at Tom, who laughed at me and threw it back. Peter looked up at us and said, “Mom, this is not the way we behave at the table. How many times do we have to talk about this?” He then went and gargled with his ice tea, making us all crack up. I then felt his arms wrap around me. “I love you, Mom.”
Yes, I’m going to miss 10.