L turned 6 and a half yesterday. I realized grimly this morning that this means she is now closer (timewise) to being a teenager than to being born. That was a blow that's left me reeling.
These 6.5 years have been fleeting, to say the least. Can I afford to go to bed tonight? Surely if I do I'll awake and she will be that dreaded teen. I'm not prepared for that. And at this rate, another six years won't cut the mustard.
I suspect I'm going to be someone who dreads my kids' birthdays more than my own. I'm not too terribly traumatized about getting older. In some ways it will be a relief (and already is) to have old age as an excuse for not doing all the things I didn't really want to do anyway when I was younger. Getting older for me is more than just the cliché of being "better than the alternative." I've enjoyed it and expect to continue to. But watching my kids get older is a thoroughly different story.
I'm a good Dad, or so I allow myself the self-flattery. But I suspect I have a niche. I think I'm really good with the 3-6 year-olds. Once they are old enough to interact, and they are all wide-eyed and wondering. Babies are yucky - way too many unpleasant eruptions to make the coos and gurgles worthwhile. (No offense to all you baby owners out there--maybe the newer models are better than the ones we had...) I crave the blossoming intellect. I totally dig reading them books and singing songs; it is unfathomably wonderful to have them scream at you for just one more chapter or just one more verse. I love the unreserved bear hugs and uninitiated "I love you's." I even, much to Stacy's chagrin, love it when they crawl crying into our bed at 2am, running from the dragon of our earlier fairy tale. I guess it's a selfish kind of love. I like being the one with the answers. The one that lends comfort and confidence just by being in the room. Teenagers scare me. They don't want that. At least they say they don't.
L is halfway to being a teenager. So I'm halfway to being irrelevant.
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3 comments:
We can loan you ours if you want, then you get to move the clock back 6 years :)
Hm, left off my name.... Caroline. Offer still stands. I think David would buy you beers if you handle the bedtime routines :)
Awww, Steve- I missed this post somehow. Trust me, they still want it when they are teenagers, they just want it to be delivered much more discreetly!maxie1219
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