My mind cannot grasp
Mowgli and Blue Boy are not babies.
Math teacher SD avows that rolling one or six dice does not change the odds of getting a three. She should know. But I will choose to roll all six. Just as my mind cannot grasp probability, it rejects children growing up.
Like an optical illusion, Mowgli is becoming a young man. While we were in Chicago celebrating the birth of our third grandchild, Mowgli was learning to knot a tie for his eighth-grade graduation photo via You Tube. Noticing that his one dress tie fell only to the top of his ribs, ED ran out to get a new one. She is not prepared for his growth, either.
You will always be my baby
When C-boy was in school, I accompanied him to the funeral of his friend who had died in an accident. During the visitation, we viewed articles the parents had presented: a school jacket, sports memorabilia, photos of him as a small boy. I cautioned C-boy: that is how they will remember him.
The pictures of Mowgli portray an adolescent boy. I see a little towhead cutie, wickedly funny and calculating, ready for hugs. Who is this young man sharing Mowgli’s features? How dare he grow up without me?
I am afraid to blink: LLJ born this week will too soon be 14, progressing to high school. Before then, Blue Boy and Mowgli could be fathers. My children will become members of the “grand” generation: grandparent, great aunt, great uncle. My stomach turns.
But this is for Mowgli
Oh Mowgli, knowing your battles, we are proud of you! Living your battles, you are not aware of what you overcome. Be proud of yourself. But please don’t grow up so quickly!!
