The first thing I noticed was something in his voice. If I hadn’t been watching, eagerly videoing every movement he made I don’t think I would have even recognised that it was him.
Little Pencil was giving a speech at the Bat Mitzvah of one of his best friends. He was standing in front of 160 people with two of his best mates happily and confidently talking about how much his friendship with the Bat Mitzvah girl means to him.
As I listened to his voice and I disconnected for a minute, I heard the voice of a young man. Not in the broken, squeaky way a young adolescent man speaks, but in the tone and confidence that a little kid would never use.
It wasn’t a little boy speaking.
As the night wore on and I watched him shaking his little hips doing the Harlem Shuffle and prancing around Gangnam Style I realised that this was not my little boy dancing. This was “one of the boys”. One of the kids that I had never been at school myself – confident bordering on cocky, self assured, happy, loving every minute of his life. Only interested in the here and now because there was nothing else clouding his vision.
This was not a little boy on the dance floor.
I have tried for a while now to look for signs that he’s still actually just a little boy but the truth is that Little Pencil is 12 now and he’s just not a little boy anymore.
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He needs different things from me now that he borders on adolescence. He needs different things from all of his relationships and however hard it is for me to watch from the sidelines and give him the space he needs the one thing that keeps me strong is pride. Pride that he turned out so extremely well.
I may have been the clingy helicopter mother, I may have fussed and worried and been over protective and done too much and helped too far but in the end my child is growing into an amazing young man. He is happy, he is self-assured, he is outgoing and smart but most importantly he surrounded by friends that adore him and he loves living his life.
What more I could ask for as my child enters the next phase of his life I don’t really know. But I do know this – as he grows up I’ll still be there for him. I will still worry about him and look out for him. I can’t stop that – I am his mother. Also I am a worrier.
He may make his own social arrangements, he may be far more self sufficient, he may spend all night on the dance floor and ultimately spend more time with his mates than with his family but he will always know that of all the things that I have done in my life – he is the most important, the most meaningful. And he will always know that I am here for him.
And even when he’s 50 and his dance moves have become a little less flamboyant and his speech making relies less on rhyming words I’ll still be proud of him.
Because he’ll always be my son. No matter how old he is.
Beautifully written, Lana x
Thanks Kellie xxx