Jacob is 11.
11. Sounds like a little kids age, right?
“An eleven year old with a dream of being an astronaut was surprised on the Late Late Toy Show with a visit from a NASA space engineer’.
You’d think, ‘Cute, that little kid had their dream come true!’. Right?
Except that Jacob is not little, in size or in typically child-like anecdotal behaviour, although he does seem to have developed a whopper attitude. What a joy.
The thing is, he’s sort of become a man and I’m not even quite sure when it happened.
He’s as tall as me and his granny, and although neither of us are supermodel height we’re still, like, average size adults.
He’s independent in a way that I wasn’t ready for – not at all interested in reading books or cooking together or, dare I say it, have a cuddle on the couch while watching a movie. He would rather eat his own schoolbag.
He’s growing up, physically, mentally and emotional rate that is so speedy, my head is spinning.
It feels like we blinked and somehow time-hopped from him building a snail motel in the garden with his sister to his needing size 10 football boots. That’s right, he’s a giant.
I’m trying not to be too emosh about it but it’s hard. Jacob was my first baby and we have been the best of buds since the day he was born.
In the ‘Wha?’ moments (you know the ones…Me: ‘Good morning honey, would you like porridge for breakfast?’ Him (blank stare): ‘Wha?’, I’m digging deep to not take it too personally.
And also to keep on loving him. Because some days, you want to take their Size 10 football boots and shove them up their…
… I’ll let you finish that sentence.
Good luck with your teens. They are going to be living with you sooner than you think.