Twelve. Eleven doesn't sound that old, but twelve sure does.
I've watched him morph before my very eyes, especially during the past four months. I've seen this phenomenon before with the confirmation kids at our church. From sixth to seventh grade, the boys become small men, and by eighth grade they all tower over me. Not fair! At the beginning of the school year, pants off the rack reached beyond my boy's toes. So I took them to the cleaners to be altered so the child would have something suitable to wear to Middle School.
Two weeks later I listened for tsunami warnings as he left the house each morning.
Here he is in August.
And now. Hello, Man-child! Where did those shoulders come from?
1. Attend a Blackhawks game with an adult of his choice,
2. Have a birthday party so he can act like a wild monkey with his friends, or
3. Dine at a fancy restaurant with his family.
My maternal influences continue to seep into his psyche. My brilliant son chose a fancy family dinner at the Capital Grille. The day of our dinner, I ran some errands in the morning and came home around noon to find him dressed - in black pants and dress shoes, mind you - and ready for dinner.
"Um, Hon, you know that dinner is about six hours away, right?"
"Yep. I know. I just want to be ready on time."
So there he sat, looking at the clock all afternoon, willing time to move faster so he could dive into some delectable lobster macaroni and cheese.
Response at dinner when I asked him how he liked his meal:
And the four of us, compliments of our lovely server, Ashley.
Homeboy cracks us all up daily. Last night we worked out as a family at our local gym. Jake wants to bulk up, Kahley wants to tone up, Mr. Musky wants a full body workout, and I wander around the place aimlessly wondering when it's time to go home and eat dinner and drink wine.
This morning, Jake announced: "My boobs hurt."
"Oh honey, that's because you did so many chest weights."
Mr. Musky: "Are you gonna start your period?"
Yep - that's how we roll before 7:00 a.m.
Jake walked upstairs, and said the same to Kahley. "My boobs hurt."
"Are you going to start your period?"
I kid you not. And there was no way she heard her father just seconds earlier. The apples don't fall far from the trees around here. Meanwhile, I'm fighting like mad to hold my coffee down vs. spewing it all over the living room as I stifle the giggles.
Kahley: "Better check your underwear."
Lord, Help me.
Tonight, the birthday boy has but two requests. To stay in as a family and eat Pepperoni Pizza Soup, his annual request on every Winter Solstice.
Happy Birthday, my little clown. I love you, your goofy nature and your excellent choice in birthday celebrations. And I love that thing you do with your eyebrow that makes us all laugh.