in which I talk about what a baby I can be….

The dreaded moment has arrived.

I’m not sure what to do.

After the words were spoken, I stood there speechless, unable to move. My eyes filled with tears. I stared up at the ceiling… I refused to let him see me cry.
His eyes met mine once again and I could immediately see that he regretted having said them. The long lashes swept down and he thoughtlessly picked at a pull in the material of his shorts.

When he finally looks back up at me, I’ve composed myself. I quietly smile, turn on my heel and close the door behind me.

Deep breaths…. in… out…

I can hardly believe it.

Peanut won’t let me help him with his Lego anymore.

He actually said “I don’t need your help anymore, Mom.”

Huh?

Heartbreaking.

This development of his autonomy is killing me.

Also?

It was hard to set an adult example today. I really wanted to throw out my bottom lip and pout about the rejection that I had experienced.

Ok, I pouted pretty badly.

I was far from adult.

I made my way downstairs, sat on the couch and sulked for a good 10 minutes.

He’s only 7… he still needs me… he can’t start rejecting me already… I’m not ready for this {insert hyperventilation here}.

That’s when the sweet little voice floated down from his bedroom :

“Mom, I’m stuck… can you help me?”

And life is good again. 🙂

Advertisements

a letter to Peanut

My sweet Peanut,

Today you are 7.
6 was a big year for you.
6 saw you learn to swim without your water wings. It saw you gain the courage to try it on your own and not use them.
6 saw you ride away on your bicycle, smiling from ear to ear, shouting “take a picture Mom!!” over your shoulder. No training wheels, no sense of defeat when you fell, you just dusted yourself off, straightened your helmet, and got back on. Just the attitude I wanted you to have.
Your reading improved by leaps and bounds this past year. You were so proud of yourself for being able to sit and read a book, instead of simply recognizing words.

We moved to our new house while you were 6. You ‘helped’ pick it, sitting on my lap, looking through the online galleries. You spent precious moments telling me which room you wanted and where we should put the couch, the excitement written all over your face.
We moved from bath-time to showers, Megablocks to Lego, T-Ball to Baseball. I was excluded from the secret meetings with your brothers, and somewhere along the way, Disney movies became “baby movies”.

I’ve tried to be a good mom to you, Peanut.
I’ve tried to protect you from the things that might hurt you, without sheltering you from the things that would help you to develop and grow.

So when I told you the night before your birthday that I didn’t want you to have any more birthdays, it touched my hear when you wrapped your little boy arms around me and told me that you couldn’t be a grown up unless you keep having birthdays.

You. A grown up. I gasp for breath at the thought.

Today you are 7.

Happy Birthday Peanut.
Don’t grow up too fast. For my sake.