10, yet today you were my baby boy. Your voice rang like it does in our home movies, and as long as I wasn’t looking at you, you were 4 years old, without a care in the world.
Your voice is believable as a little boy’s, but your face seldom trips me up… that familiar face. So familiar in fact, that it’s expressions reflect my moods, my tones, my own temper, and straighten me out when I’m being unfair. Today though, you were beyond repair and needed “mommy” as you haven’t needed me in years. Years.
You were at your whit’s end, you started to cry and your bottom lip actually curled into a pout that Hallmark and photographers see with a green glint in their eyes. A baby’s pout so genuine, so unbridled, so compelling, that I time-travelled to that moment after your hernia surgery, that moment after you burned your hand, that moment after you broke your leg, that moment every mother wickedly longs for, when only “mommy” can make it better.
At 10, it was a heavenly vision that I am intently burning into my memory because I am certain it won’t happen again, or if it does, it will be as fleeting as it was today, and I could miss it.
Pre, pre-teen, you are reaching a precipice and I wonder, is this the last year you will:
practice magic tricks
curl up in my lap
relish in the role of being man of the house when daddy’s away, and help me, really help me with the day-to-day
run for no reason
laugh at my jokes
race to explore new playgrounds
hunt for treasure
want me to read to you
squeal when daddy arrives home from work
make up games to coax your sister along
pretend to be sleeping so I’ll carry you in from the car
smile at the sight of others smiling, and frown when they are sad
build forts in the living room or in a tree or anywhere else you can find
beg me to snuggle at bedtime and ask to hear stories about when I was your age
ask permission to watch tv
boast about loving school and proudly recognize improvements you’ve made
stand shorter than I do
pout your lip and come to me when the world is just too much for you
Is this the last year?
Live within limits without limiting life
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