Growing up isn’t a steady gradual rising from feral infanthood to measured adult. It’s happening in surprising spikes and bratty troughs.
Boy One has started looking more young man than big boy these days. In the main. Sometime it starts to look like he knows his own mind. It’s only when children stop operating as a tug away or veer towards you the parent do you realise that’s what was going on.
Nearly 14 years ago I couldn’t imagine my tiny, perfect baby ever evolving into a man with whiskers and a deeper voice than mine. The process seemed impossible: Now I see the man he almost is.
Touching? For a bit… Moments later he was spotted aiding and abetting his brothers in the wilful flinging of spaghetti.
PS Boy One charged my 50p to take his photo. A worrying precedent.
Posted with Blogsy