For you Clarissa, anything. I'll even repaint flowers on the wall of your new bedroom (or anything else) if you want.
I'll also write something about Braeden.
Braeden is staring down being a teenager.
A brave new world.
Sometimes he's grumpy. Sometimes he's morose and sometimes he's downright surly.
Since these have not previously been part of his disposition, I blame adolescence. There have been times over the last few weeks when I've thought, "Here we go." And not like, "Here we go, off to Neverland!" More like, "Here we go, off to the dentist."
Here's why I'm not too worried. So far, we can still make each other laugh. So far, he still fits into my arms for tight hugs.
And there was last night.
I was reading The Gift of The Magi to my family. I love that story. At one point, when the sentimental and sweet story was too much for me, there was a tiny catch in my voice. Braeden instinctively reached out and took my hand. Before anyone else, he recognized that catch. I handed off the book for him to finish. I'm a sap and my children are used to me tearing up at anything from Friend magazine stories to Folgers Coffee commercials when the big brother comes home for Christmas. But Braeden is the first one to notice. He intervenes. He takes the book to finish reading for me.
When a boy starts out that understanding, I can't believe that a little teenage angst can do much damage.
We'll see. We're off on a ride but like Joan of Arc,
I am not afraid. I was born to do this.
that's what I'll keep telling myself