Happy Birthday, #2

A week and a half ago, #2 turned 10. It has taken me until today to put words to my emotions. Please forgive me, #2, for taking so long.

#2 is my most frustrating child, to me at least. I think it is because he is the one who is most like me. In him, I recognize my own potentials and possible failures. I see him doing many of the same things I did with many of the same results. It is hard not to call out to him and warn him of what lies ahead when I can see it so clearly. It is hard to remember that this life is his own.

I feel myself so wrapped around this child, this one I worked so hard for, that it is difficult to keep in mind that I have to begin letting go.

Here we are in the double digits. There was a time I was convinced that we would never get here, but here we are, on the threshold of his teens. He still holds my hand when we walk into stores, not because he’s afraid, but because he still wants to do so. He still curls up next to me on the couch because he still wants to be my little boy. He still trembles a bit to confess wrongdoing, because my opinion of him still matters that much. He is still fighting to be my little boy even as the time of his childhood is sliding away.

I tell myself “not yet”, “not today”, he’s still my baby now. He really isn’t, for all he wants to be. He is my boy, soon to be my man, with his false bravado hiding his tender heart. He is my silent dreamer who dares to think the “what ifs” but is afraid to say them out loud lest they sound ridiculous when given voice. He is my odd one, not always understood by the world, but yearning to be given the opportunity to share his deep thoughts and deeper emotions.

But not today.

Today, he will put the deep things aside and laugh his infectious laugh, throwing back his head in his delight at simply being alive and being 10. For all of the good and bad and frustrating about #2, the best things are his love of God and his ability to enjoy the moment he is in. I wish he could teach me how.