That particular age…..the boy

Today is the day my son turns that particular age of 15.

As I hugged him this morning, as I do every morning before I embark on a days toil, I remarked to him, “You weren’t this big when we brought you home”. He was a big boy, no doubt, hitting the scales well over ten pounds. A fact made all the more ghastly given the diminutive nature of his mother. I carried him around many times with legs straddling my bicep and his head cradled in my hand like so much Spalding pig skin.

He fit so easily into my heart, my head and my life then. His life is so much more complicated these days. Then it was all nap times, poopie diapers, dad outings, bath nights and baby food. On my mid-week days off we would make a routine of running errands in the morning followed by the stop at Chic-fil-A to impress the moms there with what a well behaved and cute baby he was and what power dad I was. In truth, we were both full of something better left unmentioned.

These days there is the normal school drama but also band and its multitude of practices, friends, girls and the associated drama there of and a schedule that requires a White House debriefing a couple times a day between his mother and me. Life is moving a little fast some days.

To be sure, he is at that particular age of 15. Where his mother and I have grown a little more senile and he a complete Mensa candidate. Where his sister can, ever so unintentionally or completely intentionally, press his buttons in .025 hundredths of a second while he possesses the patience of Job, or job whichever version you are reading at the time. Where friends rule and family drools.

I take some comfort in knowing, this too shall pass. The day will come when family will once again, at least share an even podium position with friends. His sister will be viewed as a trusted ally, and mom and dad will once again have miraculously regained a wealth of cognitive function and life experience to be gleaned from readily and free of charge.

I miss the little football he was in his infancy. The toddler that seemed to be running for mayor speaking to every living soul in Wal-Mart. The grade school kid that thought I was King Kong and everyone worked for his daddy. I even miss the young man I hiked with just a few months ago on the AT. He is growing up, and away, and out of our lives an inch at a time, and while that is to be expected and is part of the nature of living… (snif)  Well, I don’t have to be THAT happy about.

I’m still gonna get my hug every morning. I’m still gonna wax poetic about him on a semi-regular basis and tell him that I love him every single time I walk away, drive away or end a conversation with him.  Even as he changes and grows, that will never change. Even if he is THAT particular age of 15

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