When I tuck my little guy into bed we either read a story or we sing together. That is our routine. If it’s the latter, he never fails to join in straight away. He knows all the words and all the actions to our repertoire of tunes, and I love watching his little hands and face as we swing from tune to tune. From incey wincey spider to hot potato, the wheels on the bus to little peter rabbit. Some of my fondest memories will always be of this quiet time we spend together….
…. Before he bounces out of bed because he ‘forgot’ to tell me something earlier…
…. Or is suddenly dying of a thirst that requires a long, slow drink….
… or nature’s call is too intense to hold till morning….
….. or he simply ‘can’t sleep’….
……. “It’s only been five minutes. Go back to bed!!”
So as I tucked him into bed this week and merrily started our jukebox of settle songs, I was stunned – no, devastated – when his response was not the usual enthusiastic participation, but rather a new and silent expression of disdain.
He wasn’t joining in! Instead he was looking at me as though my little act was the most cringe-worthy performance currently featuring on YouTube. I’m talking a mamma Dab amongst a haphazard attempt at the Gangnam Style….
……When on earth did this happen?
Honestly, last week – literally last week – we had sung together happily as can be. Then suddenly tonight I’m as out of favour as Thomas the Tank Engine…
… Poor Thomas. I’m keeping all my trains and tracks for the grandkids.
You’ll be back, mate.
Things turned on a dime this week, with absolutely no warning at all and I’m here to tell you that it is totally unfair. Couldn’t the universe have sent me a warning letter? An end of era card? A certificate even? Job well done mum, but we regret to advise that your boy is no longer your little boy. Here is your eleven-year old going on teenager. Good luck with that!
“Can I join Facebook?” Little Guy asked me over the top of my scarecrow song. “All my friends are on it.”
“Why can’t I join Facebook?” Over the top of, ‘here’s a house with a wall with a wall with a wall.’
“I won’t friend anyone I don’t know.. I promise.. please…..” Disregarding my little boat actions. ‘Here is the sea.. the wavy sea.. here is a boat.. and here. Is. Me.’
I finished my act despite his disinterest and constant interruptions.. determined to finish it… an unshed tear sparkling in my eye. If I’d known the last time we sang together was going to be the last time ‘ever’, I would have savoured it more. Made it last longer. But I didn’t know and this was probably the last time I would sing to him like this.
Childhood is littered with firsts and lasts. Not all of them are sad, but as I kissed my ‘baby’ goodnight, I was definitely sad.
Bye bye, baby.
Blonde on!
Blonde Logic 