In just a few months Talmage will be nine which is not only a big deal because it's one year away from being a double digit dude but also a big deal because that means he's halfway to 18, to high school graduation, to a mission, to college, to leaving the nest that I've built around him, to leaving me. At the sake of sounding sappy, that's where my head has been lately. He's. Growing. Up. And I'm trying to be extremely intentional about how I treat him, about what I say and about the memories we're making because I know in what will feel like a few moments I'll be publishing a blog post about his letters home, about how quiet life is without his endless questions and about how much I miss him.
Do you think 18-year-old T will still love hot wheels? Do you think he'll beg me to go on a scooter ride around the block with him and want to show me how much air he can catch off the tree root bumps on our sidewalk? Do you think he'll come into my room in the morning snuggled up in his Pokemon blanket and ask for a bowl of mini wheats? Do you think he'll belly laugh to Studio C reruns and beg to play Imagine Dragons on Alexa? A few weeks ago I was getting after him about something or other and he looked at me with these big brown rational and humble and beautiful eyes and said, "You're right Mom, I'm sorry. I see what you're saying and I'll try to do better." Do you think teenager T will be as mature as his current counterpart?
I'm getting ahead of myself, I know, but I can't help it when there's so much goodness in someone so small and sometimes I want to freeze him solid at this very stage forever. Oh, that that were possible. Instead I'll be sure to adore 8-year-old T and his many amazing qualities extra hard as I wait and see how this wonderful boy blossoms.
^^^Our weekday scooter crew.^^^
^^^Pizza jammies to match with pizza night, he told me, and his beloved blanket and race track.^^^
^^^He now officially can tie a tie!!!^^^