It might be strange, but I refuse to say that my son is ten years old. He is nine; however, mathematically speaking…he’s probably 9.95.
What’s the big deal about ten?! It’s just another birthday, right?
It’s the first of the double digits for the rest of his life. He’ll never be one digit again.
I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m mourning the loss of nine. I mourned when we no longer shared his age in months. I guess It would be a bit odd to say that he’s almost 120 months.
I still remember a conversation that I had with my childhood friends about being the first to turn “double digits.” It must have been a significant conversation because I remember it decades later.
Today, I watched my TBP and tried to see signs of a drastic transformation. Besides eating more, I didn’t identify anything unusual but I do wonder if…
He’ll be taller or need new shoes?
Will he stop calling me Mama or let go of my hand?
Might he share less and keep more thoughts to himself?
I wish that I had the ability to manipulate time. I would slow down the next five days and savor the rest of nine.