Last night, Harold spent the night at his buddy's house. He called me when he got up and asked if he could go with the buddy to the gym. Sure. He rolls home about 3:00, grabs a bite to eat, tells me excitedly all the awesome things they did at the gym. Played racquetball, swam, worked out on machines, ate pizza. A few minutes later another plan is formulating amoung the guys to meet at someone's house to play. Can I go? Be home by six for dinner I tell him. He gets home promptly at six. At 6:45 his phone rings and he is off to the park to shoot basketball with another buddy. What up???
I am starting to wonder if I will even recognize him at the end of summer?
I am happy that he has so many friends and that they are close in the neighborhood. I am glad he is bravely going out and trying new things and finding his way. I am jealous that he has no schedule, just flying by the seat of his pants, doing the next fun thing that presents itself. I can see the writing on the wall, too. This is just the beginning of him doing more and more things on his own and it makes me sad. Time is just going way too fast for me.