I have a ten year old.
I have had a ten year old for nearly three months now and still, every time I say that sentence to myself I go "Huh....nawwwww". Because can it really possibly be true? Double digits? More than halfway to adulthood? I declare it impossible.
I mean, he still can't eat anything without getting evidence of it all over his face. Every day after school I tell him what he had for lunch. He droops his shoulders and makes this frown/smile and says, "sorry Mom" as I laugh and tousle his hair.
He spends 90% of his time living in his head. His imagination colors his perception heavily. There is consistently, (and unconsciously I suspect) a soundtrack sneaking out of his lungs to whatever thing is going on in his head. It's heavy on special effects sounds and anime-style drama. Oh, that anime. He loves it.
And, it must be someone else's kid who already has to wear deoderant and use anti-acne face wash. Right? Someone else's kid whose feet are bigger than mine and who is as tall as my chin. I noticed the other day that the little baby face hairs above his lip are starting to darken.
I am so proud of him. So proud I can hardly stand it, actually. This school year he has suddenly decided that he wants to work hard on reports and tests all on his own. He hasn't gotten a grade less than 95% all year. (man I hope he keeps that up)
Every single adult who meets him ends up seeking me out to tell me how nice he is, and how sweet, and how impressed they are.
And every single day I wonder if I'm giving him the right opportunities and advice, teaching him the right skills. I wonder what he will end up doing for a profession, where he will live and if it will be close to us, or far away. We are far away from our own parents, so it's not like we've set a precedence of "don't EVER leave" here. Well, there's one mistake. Maybe if I just tie him to a tether in the back yard? He'll be happy there for the next 30 years, right?