The rumors are true. Kids grow up.
I was going to publish a quick post about going camping with the boys this weekend, but then I got the notion to track down some camping photos of years gone by, and now I need to drive to my kids’ schools, march into their classrooms, and cry into their hair, because it appears the rumors are true. Kids grow up.
These were taken at Petit Jean State Park, in September 2006. It was just me and the boys that weekend. Patrick doesn’t like to camp, which makes me sad, because the rest of us love it so much. But I don’t like football, which probably makes him sad also. Marriage — harder than it looks.
That same autumn, I
nagged coaxed him into coming along on this trip to Greer’s Ferry.
It’s hard to believe I had been blogging almost a year by then. Look at those little kids. When were my hands free long enough to type?
I found this photo in the same batch. That cute little Wolf cub on the right?
Was dropped off at the State Fair on Friday morning, to be picked up after dark that night. Wait a minute, I thought, as he jumped out of the passenger side, wasn’t I just filling out I.D. bracelets for you inside the gate, and drilling you on what to do if–God forbid–you become separated from your Mom? “Find a nice Mommy with kids, and stay with her!” I almost yelled after him. “Don’t do drugs!” I said instead.
I pretty much add “Don’t do drugs!” to the end of everything I say to him these days. Just for luck, like “Gesundheit!” or “God Bless!”
His Dad picked him up at nine, a full two hours earlier than everyone else in the world had to be home, apparently. He sat at the dining room table, sighing and huffing, while his brothers and I played Yahtzee.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Everything was so exciting, and now it’s just boring!”
Oh, my sweet darling. I do remember those days. Welcome to adolescence (don’t do drugs!).
Granted, camping with your Mom is no day at the State Fair, but it still has its moments. I treasure every fleeting one.