Growing up and Letting Go

One of the greatest things a parent gets to do is watch his or her child grow up.  The innocence and joy our kids bring to everyday experiences that we as adults take for granted is almost magical.  To see a baby blossom into a curious, mischievous, sandcastle building, big machine loving, making up his own mind about things big boy of four is a blessing from the great beyond.

It's also one of the hardest parts of being a parent.

Children do grow up.  It's a fact of life and something we anticipate, even when we are changing their diapers at two weeks old.  However, the reality of children growing up is much harder to take than I think parents readily admit.  Tonight, Wesley sort of crossed into that threshold.  When I informed him that I would have to put his Toy Story toys up due to mistreatment, he loftily informed me, "You can put them away, Mommy.  I don't care."

:o

And he didn't. 

:o   :o

For two years (plus or minus a couple of months), Buzz Lightyear has reigned supreme, Jessie was one of the sweethearts of his eye, and Slinky Pup was stretchy and cool.  Now, all of a sudden, Wesley is four.  ("I'm not a baby, Mommy, I'm four years old!" is almost a daily mantra around here these days.)  And at the ripe ol' age of four, he's suddenly too cool for Toy Story.

I'll admit it--I took it personally.  There was something sweet and genuine about his affection for Woody and the gang, and the way his eyes lit up with any kind of Buzz toy...well, that's something that's tucked away forever in my heart.  I knew the day was coming.  Honestly, it isn't really too much of a surprise because the signs have been there for a few months: a discovery of other superheroes--Batman, Spiderman, Superman--and a newfound love of Angry Birds (thanks to his cousin Ryan and his Pap).  He's getting older and expanding his interests, which means letting go of some other things.  It's to be expected, so why did it give me a genuine :o moment? 

Because of what the abandonment of Toy Story signifies--my baby is growing up.

Now don't get me wrong--Buzz Lightyear still shows up in our stories in some of the weirdest plot twists ever conceived.  No matter.  I'm willing to have him fly in from Gamma Quadrant, Sector Four to help work the pile driver on the construction site or battle Doc Oc because, for some reason, Spiderman forgot to wake up.  And it's most likely that Wesley will, at some point in the next few days, miss his Toy Story friends and ask for them back.

But then again, it's likely that he won't.  And if that happens, what does a mother do?  Celebrate the steps towards "Big Boy-hood"?  Mourn the loss of "My Baby-hood"?  I think a little bit of both.  I mean, truthfully, it isn't the end of time.  So the toys are no longer in his room--so what?  Those characters will always have a place in his heart.  Buzz Lightyear was Wesley's first superhero, for heaven's sake.  That's something that can't be erased, no matter how much he grows up.

But for me, it's bittersweet.  My son is technically no longer a baby (and hasn't been for quite some time), and to let him grow up, I'm learning to let go a little bit at a time.  And now I find there's a reverse in the way of nature.  As my four-year-old begins to take bigger steps out into the world around him, I find myself taking smaller steps.  After all, there will come a day, I know, when he's suddenly too cool for Mommy snuggles, which he's still quite content to take and even instigate half
the time   For now, though, I'll work around the accepted adieu to a particular group of toys and accept the blessing that is my big-boy-four-year-old, Mommy snuggles and all.