My little man is six today.  I can't believe it. I mean six, as in one-third of the way to 18; 10 more years till he drives, and 5 more years till he discovers girls.  Ok, he's discovered girls, but I mean really discovers them, in that can I have sex with you sort of way. I keep thinking this is impossible, time is going to fast! He should be like 3; I mean I can still see him in his very cute Old N*vy red and blue star outfit and matching blanket coming home with us from the hospital. 

 

As a Mom, I'm much more prepared for my daughter growing up than my son.  I'm ready for the period talk, the date rape warnings, and the loves and losses with boys.  I have my strategies in place, I know how girls work and am prepared.  But little prince, what do I do when he is hiding in the shower for way too long, and I totally know he's in there whacking off?  If it were his Dad, there would be jokes, but my gut tells me that sons don't want their mothers teasing about masturbation.  Or what about the night dreams we have to talk about?  Or fucking girls and how to be careful?  This is not going to be easy.  Um little prince, we need to talk about ejaculation.  ACK.

 

I guess six isn't all bad, his personality is really starting to shine through.  He's smart and especially good at math.  He's cocky in that proud, confident sort of way.  "Do you know what a hundred plus a hundred is? I do and I'm only six."  He's funny and has great timing with his humor.  This causes fights between me and Dad because I give credit when the joke is that good and delivered just right even if it comes in the middle of being lectured.  And the best part is he's caring and generous - oh trust me, he tortures his sister, but if push comes to shove and someone in our family is hurting, he's right there, worried and loving and trying to take care of you.  I of course appreciate this because with my tendency to fall down, most people ignore me, but my little man still comes and checks on my knee and doesn't laugh at me the way his dad does when i've tripped down the stairs for the hundredth time that week.

 

One of my favorite daydream activities is to imagine my kids when they are older, what they will be like, what jobs they will have.  I always see little prince as a lawyer or a baseball player confident, secure, and of course still a Mama's boy.  And yes, because my ego is as big as an ocean, sometimes I even imagine him as President.  Of course, that could be because I've always thought about politics myself and since there is almost no chance I'm ever running for office, the next best thing would be MOP (mother of the president).  And no, in my day dream I don't steal the mike away from him during his state of Union address (but I would definitely try to get on Meet the Press).

 

I know I screw up a lot as a Mom.  I'm not home as much as I'd like to be, my temper is way too short some days, and there are times where I just want him to go to bed even though it's 4pm.  Still, I am really proud of the kind of my son has started out to be.    I feel really lucky to be along for the ride, and most of all grateful that I have a few more years to figure this whole boy, penis, sex, girl thing out.   And besides I guess I shouldn't worry too much about it going too fast since he still asks me to wipe his butt - how big can he be if I'm still doing that right?