Today is my son’s last day in elementary
school. G graduates – with a formal ceremony and all - from sixth grade this evening. He has grown
more in the last year at his new school than I ever could have expected.
His confidence has soared in this diverse
environment where he is no longer the “different” kid.
He can hit a wiffle ball. With a bat!
Yesterday, no less than “seven girls” deemed
him "good boyfriend material."
Who is this self-proclaimed "popular
kid" with sportsability (okay, let's not go too far, but he might not be
the last person picked -- and that's not
nothing!) and a modicum of social ease (in certain contexts)?
For one thing, he's the once-doting son who now
answers my every utterance with a groan of "mo-o-om" -- before I even
finish:
"Clean your --"
"Mo-o-om…"
"Finish the--"
"Mo-o-om!"
"Want some--"
"Mo-o-om…"
"Well, I was gonna say, ‘Want some cookies…’"
"[Grunt]."
The distance between the earnest, affectionate “Mama”
of the always-cherubic child (am I blacking something out? Nah…) and the grunts
and moans of the sullen tween is – infinite.
Yet he's still the guy who thinks he wants to
stay up a little later “because I’m a big kid now,” and who falls asleep with
his nose in a book, and, then, sleepily opens his arms wide for a snuggle when
I come to tuck him in…
He’s still a guy with a lot of challenges ahead
of him in middle school and life, but he feels really good about right now. Who
wouldn’t, with “about twenty friends”????
Graduation. How did this go so fast? It’s
certainly not a new or original story, but, like any rite of passage, it feels
big to those of us involved. We’ve got his tie tied and his shirt pressed and
hanging in his closet at the ready. In ways I could not have imagined a year
ago, G himself is ready.
But I am not.
Stand with me, my friends, even those readers I’ve
yet to meet. I’ll be the one bawling while my horrified son tries to avoid me
in the school gym tonight.
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
