My Boy Is All Grown Up, Mostly

I don't know where the time goes, but it sure does go, doesn't it?  How can it be that The baby Boy, that I was cradling in my arms not so long ago, is preparing for his high school graduation next week?  Wasn't I just teaching him to clap his hands for the first time?  Weren't we just attending those Boy Scout ceremonies?  Didn't I just take him to check in with his probation officer?  (Wait, that's a whole other story!).

I guess the time just got away from me.  When I sit down to think about it, what I've really been doing lately is taking him to sit for senior portraits.  And shelling out some unexpected big bucks for a cap and gown.  And taking those first steps in preparing him for further education.  Baby steps, of course.

It's hard to imagine that he's about to step out of the dark shadows of parental protection, and into the blinding light of the "real world".  I hope there's a wet suit under his gown, because once that tassel passes from one side of the cap to the other, there will be a wave of responsibility splashing over him.  His chore list will lengthen, and there can be no more forgetting to get them done.  He'll have to sweep the spider webs from his ten speed, and hit the pavement, so he can turn that vehicle from two wheels into four wheeled transportation.  Not to mention, it's time to start paying your way, Kid ... or at least part of it.  You're not a dependent anymore, you're more like a room mate, and you need to start chipping in for the Internet and the groceries, and the hot water.  You have to buy own underwear, and health insurance. 


I don't think too many things are going to change ... just yet.  He's not walking across the stage and out of our lives.  He's not even going to be leaving his room.  He'll still be wearing those damned black t-shirts, and and sucking down those Ramen Noodle Soups.  I'm sure that when he's not at work (at whatever job will have him), he'll still be glued to his computer screen, and trying to avoid his chores.  He'll still be asking me to interpret the instructions on the back of the brownie box, and where do we keep the measuring cups.  No, he's no where near ready to make that first hesitant leap from the nest.  He may be sprouting some wings, but they're still covered in that soft and downy fuzz.  It'll be fun watching those feathers grow in.

By the way, the measuring cups are in the same place they've been for the last two years, Boy.

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