Maybe it's because I've been reading Rae's entries about Leaf Baby, Ya-Ya and Kid A. Maybe it's PMS. Maybe it's Chloe's--sorry--Cloggsy's introspective entries as of late. Who knows, but whatever the reason, I've been very sentimental regarding Sweet Son #1 lately.
My six year-old little man is getting so tall now, and it seems as though he's developed that hollow leg that is unique to the youth of the male human species. Meaning, he is NEVER full. The rate at which he consumes food would lead a casual observer to think that I was neglectful in that area. I assure you, I am not. He just eats a lot.
Then there are the days where you'd think he'd decided to go on a hunger strike. The same child who can, in one meal, consume a container of yogurt, two whole grilled cheese sandwiches, a serving of green beans, a glass of milk, and still have room for two popsicles and a banana, will wake up the next morning with no appetite whatsoever. He will not be tempted by offers of waffles for breakfast, hot dogs at lunch, or pizza at dinner. He will have a bowl of cereal only to placate his concerned mother, and beyond that, will eat nothing.
Husband assures me this is normal for male children.
Then a few nights ago, I went to tuck him in bed (a ritual, which, thankfully, he still expects) and he was "jamming" to his little clock radio. Yes, my first-grader was "jamming", head bops and all. I nearly cried on the spot. I didn't though, just smiled and kissed his little bopping head good night.
Why must they grow up so quickly? My mother regularly reminds me that I'll turn around and he'll be off to college. I don't need those reminders. My little guy reminds me every time I see him.