Tonight was another heart-to-heart with my 11-year-old.
He starts out unable to sleep. Most kids want water or a snack... mine, just time and comforting conversation.
I willingly leave my blog viewing at the computer, my open e-mail, and on-going chat window to give my full attention to the boy who plops down to sit on my lap and says . . . "It's my heart, Mom. It just doesn't feel right tonight."
So the gentle inquiries begin only to discover his joy is gone. It's not as big as it usually is... heavy, not light.
He wants to relax on my bed and listen to the iPod (we each get an ear piece); we sing a couple tunes together. Then he politely asks if I mind that he turn it off.
Soon followed the stories of sadness. His friend's dog died. Old dog; but still it's terribly sad. She was a good dog; I'm informed that he believes she's in heaven. Of course!
He missed seeing his Dad's GF's dogs at Thanksgiving; the dogs were elsewhere on a visit (i dunno why?).
Then, he had a few other private questions about life, love and getting married; curiosity of the heart... so romantic.
After he settled from being so inquisitive, I shared how special it was to watch him growing up with such a tender heart. I hoped his heart remained that way for a long time.
He says "it's true. My heart is tender and delicate like an egg being held with scissors... you must be careful or it will roll off and tumble down to crash and explode into a big mushy mess.
Wow!
Shortly after he says... "Can you really tell, that I am growing up, I mean, uh... would you check and see if I have armpit hair?"
Ummm, sure. Sorry - nuthin buddy. "Aww."
HonuGirl
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