My baby, Eli, turned 10 yesterday. It’s so easy to see the frantic flurry of time’s passage once you’re a parent. The milestones fly by like speeding airplanes zooming through the sky. You barely even notice them, and then suddenly a decade is lost.
We have this giant sunflower on the wall outside my office. It’s about eight feet tall and serves as our height marker as our kids grow. My elder son, Levi, has already surpassed me in height. Looking at that sunflower delights and terrifies me. They aren’t babies anymore. They’re turning into real people, with real troubles, real opinions and real characters.
I’ve never been one to lament the passage of time. But once in a while, I find myself stunned by how quickly a decade can slip away from you. It’s hard to notice everything when you’re racing through life like a mad juggler trying desperately not to let another spinning plate fall off its perch and shatter into a million pieces.
Eli doesn’t much like me to write about him. “But you give me such great material,” I tell him. Still he prefers to remain in the background, so I don’t get much opportunity to share my thoughts about him with readers. He’s about as opposite as can be from Levi, who can’t stand me writing about anyone but him. The boys are each such amazing young men. But, boy, the differences between them are stark.
Eli’s all boy, rough and tumble to the end. Kissing is gross. Hugging is for babies. And you can just forget about anything resembling cuddling. Except for yesterday. After a weekend of birthday fun, Eli was tired and not feeling terrific. “Will you make me a bath?” he asked. “Of course,” I agreed and started the water. After an overflowed toilet and seven (really) loads of towels run through the washer on “sanitation” cycle, two dishwasher loads and the rest of us showering, there was barely enough hot water to make a bath. It was more like a puddle, but Eli splashed around for a few minutes until he felt a bit better and then asked for a towel. I held it out for him and expected him to grab it, dry off quickly and exit the premises with his usual parting phrase, “Peace. I’m out.” But instead, he folded himself into the towel and, cocooned in the oversized fluffy towel, sat squarely on top of me. It has been years since he’s done that. I had so much stuff to accomplish before going to bed myself, I almost shooed him off to get back to the laundry and dishes. Thank goodness I realized how fleeting these types of moments are nowadays, and instead, I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight, not dismayed one bit that I was now soaked and had mucked up my schedule for the rest of the night.
“I love you so much,” he said as he snuggled into me. It was a moment of pure heaven. After I sent him to get ready for bed, he asked, “Will you cuddle with me for five minutes?” It’s been quite some time since I’d fielded that request from my youngest. My eldest is nearly six feet tall and would happily plop himself down on my lap and crawl into my arms for a cuddle session at any opportune moment. But coming from Eli, I was taken aback.
When I climbed the ladder up to his loft bed, he was tired from an eventful weekend. He had already set up his stuffed animals in sleeping formation, pulled his NFL squishy pillow into position and assumed the cuddling pose. He’s very particular about cuddling. No rubbing his back. No softly stroking his hair. Just lay next to him with an immobile arm around him for at least five minutes. I don’t do it often because of time and his fierce independence. So the opportunity tonight was a gift that I thoroughly enjoyed.
Once I thought he was falling asleep, I snuck out quietly, hoping not to jar him awake. “I love you more than anything,” he whispered as I gingerly descended the loft. “I love you more than anything, too,” I whispered back.
Moments like these are rare reminders of what we as parents will miss as our children age and mature. But once in awhile, we get a warm, joyful glimpse back to the past that refreshes our soul and assures us that in the midst of daily chores, homework, school drama and adolescent temper tantrums, we maybe did something right along the way.
It also reminds us that if we manage to live long enough, we’ll get a second chance to snuggle, cuddle and wrap little ones in fluffy after-bath embraces. I mean, what else are grandchildren for?
