Today he is over 5'5" tall. He weighs 100 lbs. He can sink a shot from behind the three point line. He can Ripstick all the way to school and back. Most of his pant hems hover around his ankles. He loves tacos, and Phineas and Ferb, and the colour green. He is kind to his sister, and wonderful with all little kids. He'd be a great babysitter, but he still gets nervous when Mom and Dad leave him too late in the evening. He has (somewhat) patiently waited for years to go to Disney, and can hardly contain his excitement about finally going next month. He's my baby boy.
And today he is twelve years old.
Every year I say the same thing. Why are these the years that have to fly by so fast? My childhood seemed to go on forever, but my little boy has grown as tall as me in the blink of an eye. Still, I have been determined to enjoy it all. Every stage has been more fun than the one before. I loved every minute of the "floppy baby" stage, although Connor stayed there for about ten minutes. Toddlerhood was a hilarious time of riding his tricycle, feeding ducks, VeggieTales, Daddy back in school and special time just him and me. Then came the big brother days, and he was off to preschool and then kindergarten, and suddenly he was riding a two wheeler down a busy street and playing basketball and heading to the community pool with his buddies. And then it was time to move to London and make all new friends, and he was a trooper. All through it he has been a tenderhearted boy, sensitive and caring and full of love. I couldn't ask for a sweeter boy. He still loves watching Spiderman movies with Dad and reading Harry Potter with me. He sits beside me in the front seat when we drive together now. I can still make him laugh with just a look. He is every bit the big brother I always wished I had; his little sister is a lucky girl. He still loves playing basketball, and he goes to Junior Youth with good friends, and he is too old for birthday parties.
Connor is twelve.
How did we get here? I am sure time speeds up. Because in four years, the time it takes to turn around, he'll be begging for a driver's license. And only two years beyond that I'll be picking out a dress for his graduation. And maybe not so long after that I'll be standing in the doorway of his empty bedroom. I'm not ready, and I'm afraid it is all going to sneak up on me. These days are precious. I need to hold them close.
So I'll take more pictures at the basketball games, spend a few extra minutes each night reading Harry Potter, and make the time for making special memories. Only one more year until we are celebrating the new teenager in our house! Will he want me to read bedtime stories to him then?
Happy 12th birthday, Connor! Your mom loves you so much!