On
Tuesday morning, amid the usual sprint
to get my daughter fed and out the door in time to catch the school bus, I
decided that it was all wrong. —
“Elena, I have some news,” I announced
matter-of-factly. “Mom and I have decided that we really don’t want you to grow
up.”
She wasn’t feeling nearly as sentimental as I was. “Tough,” she
responded.
She followed up
with the slightly more polite, “What are you talking about?”
I couldn’t say for sure. I was joking, but of course it was a joke
tinged with apprehension. My Elena will
be 12 in May. Soon enough, she’ll be a
teen. Whether our kids are toddlers or
tweens, their growth—physical,
intellectual, behavioral—seems to happen without us noticing until those moments
when we do suddenly notice. I think that’s
what happened to me yesterday. Elena’s
frantically gathering her school work together, and I’m looking at her and
thinking, When did she get so tall?
“Are
you happy with your life? Are you having
fun?” I asked because I thought I knew
the answer.
“Yes,” she said, with an
assuring smile. “Okay, then. Don’t miss your bus.”
—Eric Messinger
