After I woke up Ben this morning, I moved on to Nolan.
"Morning, Mom," he said.
I looked at him, and started to touch his forehead. "Are you feeling okay? You sound sick."
"I'm fine," he insisted, in a voice that started somewhere around his knees before it made its way up.
Well. I felt like I should have noticed this happening subtly, but it's like it happened overnight. My boy, he sounds....like a man.
This was confirmed when a friend of mine called and thought she got the wrong number.
"Who was that?" she asked. "Nolan." "Not my little Nolan?" "He's not so little anymore," I told her.
I was looking at him a couple of week ago at his band concert. It dawned on me how much of this year, his seventh grade year, has been spent by me learning to let go. Letting him grow and morph into the young man he's supposed to be.
It's really hard.
Until he comes up and hugs me. I realize (with some relief) he does still need his Mommy. I have to say that it's very surreal to hug your baby when your baby is as tall as you are and sounds like he's in need of some hot tea with honey.
But I'm gonna do it as much as I can.