It’s grad season again, and this year it hits a little bit closer to home as I watch my co-worder go through it with his oldest.
HOW.
How are they old enough to graduate already?
And then my brain immediately goes one step further and betrays me by imagining my own kids graduating someday.
Absolutely not.
My boys are 8 and 5… okay fine, 6 tomorrow. Which honestly already feels rude enough. I still very clearly remember bringing that child home from the hospital, and now suddenly he’s losing teeth, making jokes, and somehow has opinions about what clothes are “cool.”
Excuse me?
I’m actually really glad we’re still in the thick of little kid life right now. Yes, it’s loud. Yes, someone always needs a snack. Yes, I haven’t gone to the bathroom alone in approximately a decade.
But they’re still little.
They still want cuddles. They still think I’m cool sometimes. They still tell me random stories that make absolutely no sense but somehow last 20 straight minutes.
And everyone keeps telling me the same thing:
“Small kids, small problems. Big kids, big problems.”
Which is both comforting and TERRIFYING.
I can handle that.
I’m not ready for heartbreaks, driving lessons, or watching them walk across a graduation stage while I ugly cry into a tissue beside other emotional parents pretending they’re holding it together.
So respectfully…
Time can slow the heck down.
Actually no.
Time can slow the f*!# down. 😄
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