Little Big

So the other day I picked yonder kiddies up from the bus stop, like I do everyday they have school. The girls came charging over to the car, chattering and eager to tell me all about their day, but Cappa, that sweet boy of mine, was walking slowly, head down. I met him halfway, put my arm around him, and thinking that something was wrong, asked him just that, "What's wrong, keed?"

He hugs me back, smiles at me, and says "Nothing, Mom."

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Yeah, Mom. I'm alright," comes the answer.

"You sure?" I can't help but ask. My Mom-dar isn't exactly pinging, but this is not the norm for my little guy.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he tells me.

Alright, I'm thinking, as we get into the car. Alright, then. That's when I announce that we're going to the mall. We're going to get some ice cream, and then head over to Barnes and Noble so I can search high and low for a particular book. The girls let out a cheer, but Cappa... he just smiles a little, and turns his attention out the window.

Odd, I think... very odd indeed.

On the way over I ask the kids about their days, and the girls enthusiastically, and loudly, dissect their day for me. Cappa... he tells me it was a good day, but little beyond that. If he had had a bad day, he would have told me about it. He did say that he played on the field at recess with some kids, and said he had fun, but nothing more is forthcoming. I ask again, are you alright, son? And he responds, again, that yes, he is fine. Great, actually.

Still....

So we get to the mall, I park, and we make our cheerful and loud way into Wal*Mart, where they have a little Mickey D's, where I like to buy their cones at. I decide that we should finish our cones before going to the book store, thinking... yeah, kids, ice cream, books... um no. Let's do some browsing, yeah?

The girls are, as usual, chattering and buzzing about, but Cappa, not so much. He walks behind us, quietly licking his cone, answering questions when asked but contributing very little. Because he is the only boy with this trio of sisters, he usually doesn't get to say a lot, since as anyone with girls know that girls talk A LOT, but he's become quite adept and interrupting when he needs to get something in there. But on this day, it seemed that silence is the word of the day. Or rather, the mood of the day.

I still keep asking him, though, if he's alright, because I'm his mom and that's what I do. He keeps telling me that all is well in his little world, and smiling at me to show that really, all is well in his world. I am not getting that feeling that something is amiss, just... this is different.

So after the cones have been eaten, we head over to B&N. And on the way there, my son says to me; "Mom, I'm growing up."

I nod, "I know." I tell him.

"That's why I've been acting that way today, Mom. Quiet. I'm just growing up, and this is the way I am now,"

"This is the way you are now, huh?" I ask, trying to keep the smile from creeping onto my lips and into my voice.

"Yeah. I'm growing up. And this is the way I am. Different," he reiterates.

I nod again, taking his hand. "Alright, that's cool," I tell him. "But you still have to hold my hand when I want to, ok?"

He sighs a long suffering sigh at me but nods. He slips his hand into mine and we make our way to the large double doors, where his three sisters are already holding them open, chattering and nattering away, as usual.

I give my little big guy's hand a squeeze, and let him off to go with his sisters to the kids' section. He glances back at me, and I can't help but think as I follow along behind, that I really don't want him to grow up TOO fast.

Bittersweet. That's the nature of it, isn't it? They grow up whether we will it or no.