He said that so far, it doesn't feel any differently than 13 did, but I disagree.
It feels a lot different. It feels like the years are passing in a flash, in dog years, or maybe light years. It's mostly on my part, though--I'm not sure how, but every time Mark celebrates a birthday, I'm the one who actually grows older.
Mark's growing so quickly, and I can't keep up. I'm just now hitting my parental stride, just now getting good at this mom thing, and suddenly, I'm almost out of job. In a few months, Mark starts high school, and then he's off to college. I'm desperately trying to live in the present, to embrace and enjoy these moments, but all I really wanna do is scream ACK! and smoosh him back down to a chubby-cheeked 6-year-old. I just wanna stuff him in my pocket and keep him young forever.
But I won't. Mark loves getting older. He's your typical kid, telling me all the things he's gonna do when he's an adult, and in charge of his own life. (The things are all variations of his two favorite past times--eating candy and playing video games). I smile, and say "Tell me more," because I don't wanna be the dream crusher who scoffs and tells him what it's really like to be a responsible adult.
But candy and video games aside, he really is maturing. He didn't want a big deal family dinner, which I understand, because we just got home from vacation the night before. But he also didn't plan his birthday party since the day after Christmas, like most years. It wasn't until I kept prodding that he finally agreed to a small party with just a couple friends, sometime in the near future.
"I just wanna stay home and rest for the next couple weekends!" he told me.
But before I could get too melancholy or worried, Mark reminded me he wasn't all that grown up. He excitedly picked out his own birthday ice cream cake topped with M&Ms. He stuck in all the candles himself, though I stopped him when he tried cramming on the whole box.
"I want 24 candles!" he told me.
"You'll get them," I said. "In 10 years. But today, you only get 14."
He agreed to 14, but only if I let him light them all. Which he set about doing, starting with all the outer candles.
"Uh oh," he said, trying to light the inner candles without burning himself. "Can you help me?"
I did, glad that he wasn't old enough to do everything on his own after all. It took us a good five minutes and an additional layer of melted wax on the cake, but we lit them all.
Mark smiled as I started to sing to him.
"Happy birthday to--" I started.
But Mark immediately blew out all the candles before I even finished the first line. I stopped singing, shocked, and watched the smoke curl up around the cake. Mark started laughing hysterically.
"You little rat!" I said, also laughing. "You didn't let me finish the song!"
"Who cares," Mark said. "Let's eat this cake!"
And so we did. Happily. Because just maybe my kid wasn't growing up so quickly after all...
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