So, I was just downloading birthday photos and they made me cry. This one in particular:
He on his 5th Harry Potter book of the summer. It seems like just yesterday (and I know that's a cliche but really--feels like no more than a month ago) that I read Steinbeck's East of Eden out loud to him as a newborn because I didn't know what else to do with him. Now he's staying up until midnight reading 800 page novels that I haven't read.
He taught himself multiplication this summer. I bought him a workbook and told him I would give him $2 to complete it. He wanted to start right then but I wasn't ready to sit down and teach him how to multiply so he taught himself. He completed the whole book within an hour. I'm ashamed to admit that he understands the core concepts of multiplication better than I do...and he taught himself.
He kissed a girl this summer. Despite me telling him specifically that kissing girls was not allowed. He did it anyway. And he liked it. And he got caught (because as a girl, she had to blab about it and her mom called me). And I could tell it was worth the little bit of trouble he got in. Ugh. I'm afraid he's humoring me when he agrees that there will be no more kissing until he's 16.
He's going to be a 3rd grader. I remember being a 3rd grader--how could I possibly have one? In 3rd grade, Catfish and I snuck out of Mr. Eder's class to hang out in the bathroom and waste the paper towels and soap. 3rd graders are officially real people and not just little kids (not that wasting paper towels creates that distinction).
How do I make it stop? Don't even get me started on little kid, and the fact that my baby isn't a baby at all. Every inch they grow squishes my heart a little harder and they won't stop growing.
And where the hell did summer go?