Slow Down Little One
There is something that happens between ages 7 and 8 in little boys.
A part of development I didn’t know about.
I was sitting on the couch a while ago when I heard the door burst open.
I was confused because my son had just left mere minutes earlier to go sledding with our family friends.
I yelled his name out. Just to make sure it was him.
When he rounded the corner he ran to me and jumped into my arms.
I held him like he was little again. Not 3 days away from turning 8.
The tears fell from his eyes.
I figured out he crashed his sled. And he was embarrassed.
He didn’t want the kids, especially the girls, to see him crying. Because he’s tough.
After some sleuthing I figured out he must have taken a pretty good tumble. But he held it together until he got home.
When did that happen? When did he grow up?
I remember him crying when he was little. Not a second thought given to who saw him. He let me hold him and kiss him and fuss over him.
And now he’s big. There is no time for crying.
I reminded him that’s it’s okay to cry. We all cry. Even boys.
And that he can always come to me.
There is something about little boys growing up. He still fits in my lap. I can still hold him if needed. But in his mind, he’s 6 feet tall and invincible. I even caught him hiding when he changed his clothes the other day.
Slow down little one. You have plenty of time to be old. And you never have to hide your tears from me. Not ever.
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