Growing Up

Yes, my first born continues to grow up. We passed another milestone today.

Boxers.

My 12 year old has clung to the safety of his "tightie-whities" as I like to refer to them. He tried to make the switch in 4th grade when he had to start dressing out for gym. I'm not sure he used them for anything other than sleeping shorts over his "tightie-whities." However, this fall he moves to a large middle school with gym everyday and a large locker room. He requested boxers.


He's ready.


He's ready. Am I? He's still my baby who wouldn't wear anything but red shirts for the first 6 months he was 3. My baby who had catastrophic meltdowns at the change of season when he had to switch from long to short sleeved shirts and then back again. My baby who wore his superman pajama's and cape everywhere until it was embarrassingly too small.

My baby who proudly informs me regularly of the changes of his body. My baby who actually needs deodorant - sometimes more than once a day.

My baby, who in the way only a 12 year old boy could, just explained exactly how things feel wearing his new boxers.

And then watched my face for the laughter or grimace of grossness.

Can you believe I'm getting this worked up over a change in underwear preference???

I'd cry over my baby growing up, but he's just too funny. And happy. And so darn cute.

Do I miss the baby days? Sure. But I love this age and how he still surprises me everyday by growing so fast while I blink.

I love you, my little superman. In boxers.