Twelve, one whole box of candles. This year he turned 12. Where does the time go? I can still remember the day I was at church & a young man from our Sunday School class read my shirt “Mother 2-Bee” & said, “You’re pregnant, I didn’t realise!” His poor wife crawled under the table as we chuckled at the funny statement. Or when the nurse on duty didn’t believe I was really in labour because I couldn’t stop laughing, the look on her face when she hooked me up to the monitor & saw how close the contractions were only sent me into another wave of giddy insanity.
We tell our children stories, all the time, mostly about themselves. We were recently sharing the embarrassing story of how, at the age of 2, Jayden bellowed through every isle of Walmart that he was Wendy, not Jayden. His brother only nodded & said, “Yes, & I’m Bob the Builder, Wendy is my helper.”
Or the day he finally put his foot down & insisted his big brother stop calling him Jay-Jay. It went over like a lead balloon as he stamped his little four-year old foot down on the floor & said, “I am not Jay-Jay anymore! I am just Jay.” Thankfully I haven’t been told off, yet, for still calling him Jaydie.
Long gone are the days of Thomas the Train & Bob the Builder, replaced now with hourly weather checks & constant facts about one thing or another. He finds it hard to believe he’d cry his eyes out until I sang Baby Of Mine to him each night; replaced now with the loudest versions of Jesus Freak or Flood to which I express my constant need for ear plugs.
A whole new year; new likes, & dislikes. The same boy, but older. One final year as a tween, the word that makes him roar with laughter until his face is red & he’s gasping for air. “That’s not a real word Mom, I know you made it up.” No amount of insistence will convince him I didn’t, & as we share in his excitement of the day, I can’t help but wonder what stories this year of growing will produce. What new excitements & loves will he pick up, & what old thing will he cast off in place of the new?