He’s Growing Up

Tonight, I went out to an evening with my friends, to discuss jewelery and crafting and other such things. With my son. I drank wine and nibbled and chatted and tried on necklaces. With my son. With my rambunctious, flamboyant, expressive, attention-centric, mischievous son. And it was AWESOME.

He played with the other little boy there, half his age and a third his size. That is, Bonhomme dictated the terms under which he would deign to play with the other little boy, which included monopolizing the toys and ordering imperiously. He sat and watched TV with my friend’s husband, who got the same treatment (and whose vampire movie mysteriously transformed itself into Dora along the way). He got all the ladies dancing to the beat of his Fisher Price keyboard. He got served snacks, on demand. He advised me on my necklace trials. He entertained us, but more importantly, he entertained himself.

I’ve waited three and a half years for this. This is the kid who requires constant stimulus, interaction, choices, ideas, and movement. He’s the most extroverted person I know. Everything comes out with him; he literally is a stream of consciousness. He is astounding, exhilerating, inspiring – and exhausting.

There will be much more of this, I know, as Bonhomme learns to define himself and his place in the world. What I won’t tell him just yet is how long that process is going to take. But tonight, I got a tiny bit of space to breathe. To sit back and watch the show. To converse with my friends, indulge in one of my passions, relax – and still be there for my son. I, for once, was not subsumed. And it was awesome.


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