My son is almost done with second grade. As strange as that seems to type, it's true. What strikes me about this coming transition is not so much how quickly the year has flown by (it has mind you, very much so), but rather how this past school year represents a watershed in my son's growth and development as a person.
My son has always been precocious and inquisitive. Our evening routine has, for years revolved around asking each other questions. Me, about his day at school, who he likes spending time with (and who he avoids), his favourite things in various categories, etc. He, about the foundations of the universe, why math matters, why stuff works - and why is it so weird.
That gnawing need of his to know has grown in this past year. More than that, his personality has begun to crystallize in a stunningly cogent fashion; his preferences have solidified and his quirks become more clear. He is, my son, and it's truly wondrous to behold.
I am filled with hope; I see in him the potential for a life of great joy, incredible accomplishments, and dreams come true. A thousand thousand futures stretch out before him, and I verdantly believe he may outshine them all.
I am filled with dread; every moment that passes by he needs me less and less. One day, his need for me will end completely, and I will have to redefine who I am in his life. Yet he will ever be my son. Can I navigate that transition with grace and aplomb? Will I cling too tightly to a phase of life that needs must end.
I am filled with gratitude; I have the privilege of being this charming little fellow's father. It's the best job in the world; wild horses couldn't drag me away.
