"I'm growing," announces my 10 year old son, one night at the supper table.
"Notice anything different about me, Mom?"
I look him over, smiling inside, and guess, "you've got muscles?"
He was always telling me about his muscles once he turned 9.
"Nope." He says with a gleam in his eyes.
"Your freckles are darker?"
"Nope."
"Your boobs are growing?"
"No," he laughs.
"I got good posture!" He proudly reveals.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," he goes on, "remember how I use to slouch when I ate?"
"Well, now I don't!"
I wonder what he will grow at next, I think to myself, that smile still inside.
Wrote this in 1982. Was living in Lincoln, NE on the corner of 33rd and Orchard at the time. John was 10 and his little sister was just over a year old.
"Notice anything different about me, Mom?"
I look him over, smiling inside, and guess, "you've got muscles?"
He was always telling me about his muscles once he turned 9.
"Nope." He says with a gleam in his eyes.
"Your freckles are darker?"
"Nope."
"Your boobs are growing?"
"No," he laughs.
"I got good posture!" He proudly reveals.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," he goes on, "remember how I use to slouch when I ate?"
"Well, now I don't!"
I wonder what he will grow at next, I think to myself, that smile still inside.
Wrote this in 1982. Was living in Lincoln, NE on the corner of 33rd and Orchard at the time. John was 10 and his little sister was just over a year old.
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