I am not a tall person. I'm all of 5'3 and 3/4" tall. (and yes - I do need to mention that 3/4, because when you're short, every. bit.counts!) My husband is taller, but he's still not basketball tall - he's only 5'10" - which is perfect for *me*.
So would someone please tell me how I ended up with a son who is apparently going to be 6'4"???
He has managed to outgrow all of the jeans we bought him at the start of school - the ones I bought kinda long hoping that he'd wear them longer. We already replaced 3 pair around Christmas. Today - as I stood in the new Target and approved the length (I'm tellin ya - I'm not buying any more jeans until next fall darnit!) and fit of 3 more pairs of size 16 boys jeans - I realized.
That's the last time I'll buy him clothes in the boys department.
He'll be 14 this summer. And he's quickly growing out of the size 16 boys clothes - and when I buy him clothes next time - it'll be in the mens department.
The. Mens. Department.
How the heck did that happen? I watched him walk out and place the jeans into the basket and I remembered the tiny baby he was - who gnawed so fiercely on his tiny fist - not understanding why nursing was so hard after being bottle fed by the nurses at the hospital when he had jaundice. And the trusting looks he gave me when he (we) finally figured it out.
I remembered the joyous moment when he smiled at me the first time - and how thrilled I was at that first wide toothless grin. So thrilled I didn't even notice that I had left my car keys in the seat when I took him into the nursery and told everyone he had just! smiled! at! ME! I didn't notice until I tried to open my car door and saw them sitting there - and I just laughed, turned around and went in to call my husband to come let me in my car - but first I told him about that smile.
I remembered his first steps - with his arms flung out to the sides for balance and his smile and his joy at being able to finally walk like the big people in his life. I remembered the first time he patted my pregnant belly and said "hi baby J! Come out now!" And the time he bit his baby brother's toe when I was nursing him.
As I drove us to Sonic for a drink and then home - several E memories floated through my mind. Memories of the story of the baby bear - where he told me they had one in his daycare class - and if they were good they got to take it out and pet it and feed it a little bear chow, and how he told it so convincingly - that even though I *knew* better - I still looked around the room carefully when I dropped him off. I should have known right then that embellishing would be his forte.
That little boy isn't a little boy any more. He's nearly a young man. One that is bright, witty, and onery. And while I'll always miss that little boy that used to run to me when I arrived to pick him up - I'm pretty proud of the young man that saunters up to my truck after school now - even if it does annoy the tar outta me when his first words are "'Sup momsie-o?"
I guess it's just all part of it, eh? And does it make me a total dork that I literally got tears in my eyes about 5 times while typing this?