He makes me laugh, and roll my eyes.
He gets called a goober at least once a day.
He’s growing up, and I find myself writing about him less, for fear of embarrassing him here. He came home from school one day and said some of his friends were asking him “about my skim board. They saw it on your blog, Mom.” Ever since, I am more aware of his presence here on this little blog. And yet, I want to write and put some semblance of words together, so we can look back and remember. Remember- when he liked origami and sold kusudamas on Etsy. When he would spend time in the office, sitting at my left, all concentration and intensity. When he would ask for old school music on Pandora, and I’d look at him and laugh at his somewhat ridiculous choices. When those stubby fingernails would make creases on paper, and I’d give him a hard time and ask how he can fold paper with bitten nails. When he’d glance up at me with that sneaky ‘I know you think I’m cute’ grin and I’d see that glint in his eyes and somehow feel a little sad. When he’d spend time with me over school vacation, working on saving toward something which an eleven year old boy can’t wait to have.
Things will change. And that’s good. And healthy. Still, I want to remember. And write. And photograph.
And I can’t help but grin, too.
***Almost forgot to mention:
Among the many shops is Elizabeth St.
Be sure to visit, comment and enjoy!