Pride

There’s a mixture of pride and shame when your kids start to exceed you. I used to be able to lift them up, astound them, teach them new things and dance them around the living room.

Now, my thirteen year old can solve a Rubik cube in less than fifteen seconds, while in the same amount of time I can line up… well, two blue squares.

And my over-extended eleven-year old stumps me daily with questions like

‘Was the discovery of nuclear power accidental?’

‘How do they know there are black holes?’

And, ‘Is methane more flammable than hydrogen?”

I do my best, I really do, before throwing my hands in the air (feeling really STUPID) and declaring, ‘I’m not Wikipedia, child. Go look it up on the internet!’

Then there’s the little guy, eight years old and I haven’t beaten him at game of Connect 4 in weeks. And believe me, I’ve tried…. Is humiliating!

Yesterday, he even outran me in a game of chasey  when I took off with his hot cross bun. How swiftly his little legs put me to shame and he sat up at the bench with butter smudged across a very smug little smile.

But when my thirteen-year old has to bend down to hug me, I grip him tight and think, that’s the way, my handsome boy. Tower high above me.

And when my eleven year old asks, “When I’m a multi-million dollar online game creator, what colour Lamborghini do you want?” I say, surprise me clever boy…. Like you do every day.

And when my eight year old looks up at me from his pillow at night with his beautiful dark brown eyes and simply says, I love you, Mummy…… there is no part of me I wouldn’t sacrifice to see them all become bigger, better, taller, faster, smarter than me.

Blonde on!

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