I knew in the back of my mind that it would probably have to happen at some point. But I was hoping just maybe I would get lucky and it might never happen to this one. But it has.
My youngest, my baby, my clone (poor guy) is becoming a rather sassy teenager. He’s still his kind and helpful self about 70 percent of the time. But his new sassy self, the one disgusted by the ridiculousness of anything that I ask or suggest, is in session the other 30 percent of the time these days. It’s during these times that his voice is a little sharper, his patience a little thinner, and his door is more often closed than not. His dry wit in both versions continues to impress me.
I am still in denial that this is even happening to my youngest offspring. My logical self knows it isn’t personal. And knows that its part of the deal and this too shall pass. But my illogical, more emotion-driven self is somewhat devastated half the time, wishing I could turn back the clock for a while.
The rest of the time I am able to maintain perspective and crack the respect whip with a facial expression that my boys say is frightening and hilarious at the same time. Apparently my eyes squint with a spooky stare and my mouth turns into a version of our Shih Tzu mix pound dog’s under bite (but with a full set of teeth). I use this technique when I glare at them and wait for behavior correction or an apology. I think they choke back their laughter and compare notes afterwards.
Luckily that majority — the stuff that makes him who he is — is priceless and makes me beam with pride. So for now I’m going to focus on being ever so grateful for his sharp-witted, perceptive and compassionate self that reappears when I’m least expecting it. That way I can soak in every bit of it during the years left before he flies the coop.