…my older son was born. As with all new parents, there was a learning curve. We had to figure out that he wouldn’t break when we dressed him, that the 5-second rule applies, that you need to wait that extra second after a toddler falls to see if he’s really hurt or if he’ll just pick himself up and keep going, that not every sore throat is strep, and that if you intend to keep your sanity, you’re going to have to hide The Little Engine That Could.
We learned that we didn’t doom his academic career by waiting until he was 4 to send him to pre-K (3 afternoons a week), that the policy of “if you don’t like the sport you don’t have to sign up again after this season is over” is a good one, that Boy Scouting is well worth the time and effort, and that despite his nearly-nocturnal lifestyle, he can still manage to make the Dean’s List.
We’ve been letting him go a little at a time ever since his first day of kindergarten when he was the kid tossing “gotta go!” over his shoulder as he ran to line up at the door. But he’ll always be a part of us.
Happy 20th birthday, Big Brother!