Ten is not a little kid any more.
Seen from an adult perspective, 10 is still a child of course. Some of the twenty-somethings I know seem like children sometimes.
Yet, at the same time, 10 definitely isn’t a baby any more.
A 10 year old doesn’t need his mom to do everything for him any more.
It’s a relief in some ways. We are far, far away from the days of any bathroom assistance.
Just the basics of knowing he won’t make a mad dash across a parking lot or stick a fork into an outlet can be a relief.
He can be in his room for a while by himself without me worrying that he’s destroying something or hurting himself.
He can make easy meals for his brothers.
He can tell the hairdresser what sort of haircut he wants and doesn’t need his mom hovering.
He can be trusted to do his homework on his own.
He can even be home alone. For short periods of time.
Ten is getting so close to middle-school age, which means no more little kid stuff.
And when 10 is the oldest in your house, it seems so grown up compared to his younger siblings.
Because 10 is often old enough to know better, so more is expected.
It is so grown up compared to where he was the last time I blinked my eyes. Why did I have to blink?
I want him to still have time to be a kid.
To be silly, to mess up, to not know better…
Because there’s only a short window of time when that’s still okay.
And he’s still there.
Even though he’s turning 10 this week.
So as much as it seems like he’s growing up so quickly, I want him to know he can slow it down if he wants. There’s no hurry to be all grown up.
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