My thirteen year old just walked out the door waving good-bye to me on his way to a sleepover. With a big smile on my face, but a little heavy-hearted, I wave back.
When I see him tomorrow, he will be fourteen! What happend to my little boy? He is now taller than I, he beats me at tennis and outspeeds his Dad at karting.
I remember his first steps in Argentina, his fear of Cruella De Vil at Disney, the hours spent sitting on the floor in his room in Milano playing with airplanes and cars while it was pouring outside, the "Vamos Ronaldo" poster we painted which he proudly took along to his first Real Madrid football match, how happy he was to discover the huge football pitch behind our house overlooking the Swiss mountains, his disappointment when he stepped around the corner in Paris to see his school did not include a football pitch.
A few months ago he proudly declared that we soon could not go to the cinema together anymore because we did not enjoy the same kind of films. Feeling a little guilty, he added, unless maybe if it were a Bond movie.
When he asked me, last Saturday, to take him to a market in Paris, I did not make him ask twice. I jumped at the occassion knowing this will not be happening very often from now on. Admittedly, I ventured out to a rather dubious part of town for a real Parisian Saturday morning market experience, knowing full well he would be happy his Mummy was right next to him. Ok, so I was a little naughty!
But it is nice to know that you have raised a responsible, conscientious, appreciative young man who looks after his little sister and cares as much about his close friends as he does about his immediate family.
He is turning into a young adult, and I'll be nudging him along this path conscious and appreciative of every moment he still needs and wants his Mummy. It won't last forever!
However... he still has a long way to go before he beats me down the slope on skis!
Happy 14th Birthday Pumpkin!