“Mom, everyone is worried about the 5th grade dance.”
“Why, isn’t that dance at the end of the school year?” I responded nonchalantly.
“Because it’s hard to get a date.” he replied.
Suppressing so many emotions here: laughter, sadness, nostalgia, fear, etc. I responded back, “Oh, I didn’t realize it was that tough.”
With a sigh, he added, “Well, if I have to ask someone in my class, I’m gonna ask _____.” (gotta leave out the name to protect the little fellow)
In Mommy wisdom, “I’m pretty sure you could ask anyone in fifth grade if you wanted to.”
“Oh.” Pauses for a moment to think of someone else he’d like to invite. “Well, I don’t even know how to dance.”
“That’s okay buddy. I can teach you some moves.” I say with a smile.
He smiles back, not quite sure if he’s gonna take me up on that.
So here I sit, pondering that conversation. So much said with so little words. I’ve always heard that kids will grow up before you know it. So true. I believe we’ve just entered a new phase, and it’s one I’m not ready to travel. Even when I reached over to hold his hand for a minute today, he didn’t respond quite like he used to: eager and affectionate. I know he still loves me, but I’ll have to enjoy those affectionate moments on his terms. I’m okay with that, but now I wished I held his hand a little more when he wanted to, sat a little longer holding him in my lap to read a story, laid a little longer on his bed for kiddie conversation, and looked in him in the eye a little harder while he was telling me a story.
He’s an amazing little fellow and I pray that God takes him on adventures beyond his imagination. But today, I pause for a just a moment, let a quiet tear roll down my cheek, and remember when he was my sweet little Cademan.