Well, a little piece of me is sad today. No, don't worry -- I’m healthy! All is well. But...
Right before my eyes this week, my little boy grew up. The little boy who used to be strapped into a denim car seat, then moved into a big-boy booster and then sat snug beneath a seatbelt in the back seat of my car has now joined me in the front seat of my car.
Oh, I know most of his friends have looked out of the front windshield for awhile now. But this safety-sadie mom has tried to keep her one and only son safely tucked behind her for as long as she could. Our pediatrician recently told me that it’s safe for him to sit beside me if he’s over 80 pounds (he is) although she reminded me that the backseat is always safer than the front.
But as I walked back to my car after picking up my daughter and her friend from school, I found my son sitting in the front seat. With a grin on his face that said,
I think I’m ready.
As I met his grin with a quiet smile, he quickly rolled down the window and rested his right arm on the ledge. His posture whispering, I have arrived. And before I could start the car, his fingers had already reached for the stereo knob. And the volume button. What is it with kids and loud, obnoxious music? Why don't they want to crank up the volume and listen to Dr. Dobson?
That sweet little boy who drank from an Elmo sippy cup behind me and counted "power rangers" (cyclists in colorful outfits) from the back window is quickly turning into a young man.
Later that night, we had to jump in the car and run to church. I could have bet my new set of Ballard curtains that he would have sat in the front seat. Again. But he opened up the back door and settled in next to his sister. Probably out of habit.
I love old habits.