When the Kid was a toddler and his age was asked, I was NOT one of those parents who held onto the month’s stage.  Oh, he is 18 months, 24 months, 36 months.  No, the Kid was a year and a half, two years, three years. Last year he was double digits and being a deal to kids I did not steal this moment from him.  However, from this point forward he is now just 11, 27, 57.  He is not double digits plus one nor will he be one year shy of legal drinking or the big 4-0.  What this means is the Kid is simply eleven years today.  Eleven!

Every time I turn around another part of his childhood is gone. Take these feet.  Look how big they are, how long the toes are.  Is this normal?  Should the second toe be longer than the first toe? Don’t mind that he is standing on top of the table to admire his concrete chair tower during Here We Go Again, just notice the feet.  They are the focus here, not the fact that I am letting him stand on a table that is broken and wobbly from Hurricane Harvey.

Of course, there are days when he is still kid like in actions.  But then again what full grown adult does not like snowball fights? Especially when nailing a kid in the back?

When working with metal, he remembers to wears gloves without being reminded.  It happens this day was super cold and that helped.  But here he is helping with a smile.  A SMILE! Making a spiders web mess ensuring the job is done right the first time, but helping all the same.  As to why he has a flashlight on his head in the middle of the afternoon, well he is a kid after all.

But then again there is tractor operation with flipflops. Can’t always win.

Sometimes I catch glimpses of the little kid like in this picture.  Sweet, simple, innocent smiles. Ten thousand hair ties on his arm and a book in lap.  However, as this picture is taken at the club waiting for sailing, it only shows how adult like he is too.  Being productive while waiting for coaches to arrive when he could be just running around like a crazy kid.

Other times I go looking for the kid and see the mini adult.  Wanting all the sailing participants to have a swag gift when attending his local club regatta, he diligently (and sometimes painstakingly) made over 70 monkeys fist.  He thought of the idea, he found the perfect gift, he made sure I ordered the string.  When the going got tough, he sought out help in the form of an aide.  He found the aide and had the Planner help make the aide.  He made all the gifts.  Each took about 7-10 minutes each.  A few each day and over several weeks he was done.  What an adult thing to do.

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Then again, there are the days where the kid is 100% evident.  The face may be thin and void of baby chunk, the attitude is kid.  The body is tall and lean, the muscles are weak and underdeveloped.  Look at him struggle to lift this box full of parts.  Stubborn and proud, he tried his best.

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And when the solar eclipse lenses were rediscovered, he took every opportunity to use them and ahh in the amazingness produced, even if it is just from the regular sun.

Growing up must come in stages.  After having to strive and test his endurance to finish a challenging regatta, he was seen for days playing with kid toys. Hot Wheels, Tonka Trucks, and John Deere equipment.  Roads, bridges, and tunnels. Shovels, rakes, and wagons.  No adult actions here.

But every night as he is tucked in, I am reminded that while during the day he struggles with the internal conflict of kids vs adult, he is still my kid and I will let him kid as long as possible because there is plenty of time to adult. In fact, there is too much to time adult and not enough time to kid.  So with his much beloved Raffi and his new found favorite blanket (yes, it is sailing associated), he can kid all night and morning long.  And if he wants to suddenly cuddle on the couch, so be it.

If he wants and wishes for LEGO, so be it.  His needs are simple.  Sailing, LEGO, Raffi.  Everything else is hit and miss, come and go.

He is a great kid when he is a kid.  He is a challenging mini adult when he is mini adulting.  Of course, having the Perfectionist Planner and the crazy mama as parents he has every right to have difficult adult days.  We make parenting interesting.  He makes parenting interesting.  Better interesting than boring.  Happy Birthday, Stinky Feet!