Halfway to being a man

I always thought the whole double digits thing was a bit overrated. But then today – and I’m still not sure how it happened – my little boy turned ten.

People try to warn you about it. When you have a newborn baby, everybody tilts their head knowingly and tells you to “savour this time” because “it’ll be gone in a flash”. Don’t blink, because “they grow up so quickly”. But when you’re waist deep in nappies and Play School you can’t possibly see how that could apply to you. And then your baby turns ten. And you start to believe it.

Last year, when he turned nine, I thought, Good grief, my little person is halfway to being an official grown-up! At least in Australia and Egypt. That was enough to give me pause, but easy enough to brush over. And now he’s ten. In one year, he’s gone from being half an official grown-up to half a fully-fledged young adult. He’s halfway to being waist deep in a university degree. Or an apprenticeship. Or possibly his second gap year. Whatever path he chooses, he’ll be entrenched in adulthood.

           

The odds are high that he’ll be out of my house and living elsewhere. And that’s a sobering thought. A thought that brings a lump to my throat and makes my chest constrict a little. A thought that causes my mind to flood with questions. Have I been a good enough mother? Am I raising him well enough? Am I enjoying my time with him enough? Do I sweat the small stuff too much?

           

He’s at the age where I can see glimpses of the man he is on his way to becoming. The man I hope he will be. It’s infused in everything he does. It’s in the way he moves. The way he tilts his head. The way he expresses his opinions. The way he treats others. And yet, for now, he’s still a little boy. For now, but not for much longer.

           

We have our children for such a short time, in the big scheme of things, before we have to release them into the world. So now, with ten barging its way in through the front door without even knocking, each moment feels more weighted with significance. Every action seems more like a chance to impact this boy who is on the fast track to manhood.

           

But for today, I’m not going to think about it. I’m just going to read to him for a bit longer when he asks me to, as he always does when it’s time for lights out. Because one day, all too soon, he won’t ask any more. Because today, he’s still just my little boy.