Seventeen

This week, my firstborn turned 17. It would be an understatement to say “where has the time gone?” Just the other day I was excavating various items from the room formerly known as our office and ran across my old 35mm camera. This camera was first purchased when I was pregnant with Teenager and used up until I finally went digital. It still had film in it and I was excited/worried to see what might be on that film if it was even still good. So, the other day we got the pictures developed and there was my little boy at his sixth grade graduation. That was nearly five years ago. He was a lot shorter, had a much rounder face and a "little boy" look to him. That look is gone now. Replaced with acne, an occasionally shaved face and a whole lot of TT (teen ‘tude). I’ve already waxed poetic on my Teenager in Reflections on Diapers and Driver’s Licenses but let me expand on that a little. Without going into too many specifics, this kid has been through numerous absurd custody battles on top of parental neglect and mistreatment. He’s managed to come through it all pretty well-adjusted. He’s a really good kid; so much so that I frequently get compliments from other parents as to how polite, well mannered and sweet he is. Despite the inevitable TT he still manages to do his chores and make us proud with good grades. He’s a source of entertainment with his random parody skits of his parent’s quirks and humorous behavior. And I can’t forget to mention that he’s such a good (& proud!) big brother to the little guy. Little guy just adores his “buh buh” (as he calls him) and really looks up to him. Little guy is fortunate to have such a great role model to look up to and I know these boys will continue to be close throughout their lives. Of course I can imagine when little guy is twenty-something and Teenager is thirty-something I’ll still be calling Teenager and saying; “are you watching out for your little brother?” and I have no doubt he still will be. Happy Birthday. We love you, son.