Twelve

Dear Bug,

I've spent a long time being scared of you reaching adolescence. I just finally got the whole baby/toddler/little boy thing down - well, not down, but at least to a point where I didn't feel each day handed me a total blindside. So I get that part down and start to feel comfortable, and then you seem insistent on leaving it behind and dragging us into brand new territory.

But can I say that so far, I adore 12. I've had so many favorite ages: you as a cooing 6 month old. You as a chatty, inquisitive 4 year old, you as a voraciously learning 6 year old.

I'm going to add 12 to my list of favorites.

 

At 12, you are thoughtful.

You are always asking me if you can do anything to help. You come up and give me hugs when you can tell I've had a stressful day. You unload the dishwasher and play with Duck without (almost) a complaint.

At 12, you are humble.

You never brag.  At the end of the school year, you competed in a running club race. I couldn't be there to watch. When I picked you up that afternoon and asked how the race went, you replied, "Fine. I ran it in 7 minutes 40 seconds." That was it. No amount of prompting could elicit more details. I found out from one of the other moms that you had won the race. When I congratuled you, you just shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile. I found out you had been awarded a student excellence award from the school newsletter. You never said a thing.

You never ask for anything. When I tried to push you for what kind of birthday cake you wanted or what gifts you wanted, you just said you liked to be surprised and that you've always loved the things I've made for you.

At 12, you are more interesting than ever.

We are starting to share the same interests. We talk about Hunger Game and Harry Potter books. We watch Doctor Who together. We listen to the same music. I'm always worried that you'll see me sharing the same interests that you do as some lame attempt to be the "cool mom." But you don't seem to mind and maybe, just maybe, actually enjoy the time we get to spend together.

At 12, you are sarcastic and funny.

I have no idea where your snark comes from (*cough*). But it's definitely well developed.

At 12, you are handsome, and smart, and responsible...

Well, you've always been those things. I'm just so glad that you continue to be those things.

Yep, 12 is definitely one of my favorite ages.

Love,
Mom