A funny thing happened yesterday. Maybe it's been sneaking up on me for a while and I just didn't notice, or maybe it really did spring on me out of the blue, I'm not sure. But either way, yesterday I looked up at my son and realized he was not so little anymore. In fact, he was sort of...a tween.
I blame Old Navy.
Really, I do.
You see, yesterday we stopped by an Old Navy on our way to the Sony Wonder Lab because Briton needed some flip flops and I needed a second sundress since that's all I feel like wearing on hot sticky days. And that's where it started.
Now, for eight years and ten and a half months, my son hasn't cared a whit about what he wore. Unlike his sister who has very definite opinions about her outfits, Briton has always been perfectly content to either put on what I hand him, or, if I'm not standing conveniently by when he's ready to get dressed, whatever is on top will do as well. The only inkling of opinion he has shown on the clothing front is in the shoe department, and that is more an issue of convenience, i.e. he doesn't care for tennis shoes because he has to stop and tie them, he'd rather have slip-ons. And that's it. No other interest in clothes or his hair or what's cool unless we're talking about cool in the Lego universe.
Until yesterday. After mulling (for a strangely long time) over what color of flip flops he preferred, I wanted to go grab him a t-shirt since he seems to have shot up again and outgrown most of the ones I brought with us. I picked one that I liked up and started to head to the checkout.
"Nah, I don't like that one."
Before I could fully register the fact that my son had shown an actual opinion about his clothes he headed over to the table and started pawing through the shirts, finally deciding on one that featured a glow in the dark Big Foot Crossing sign. And then he requested that I buy one that was a little baggy. Because he liked his shirts a loose.
After a moment of mouth hanging open shock, I went with it and pulled out the shirt he liked a size up from what I would normally buy. As soon as we got home, he wanted to change into his new duds. An you know what? He looked....cool. With his overgrown hair (that he doesn't want cut, another opinion) swept to the side in a Bieber-esque style and his oversize shirt he looked like a little surfer. On top of that he just seemed to exude a sense of "Yeah, I'm cool, I know it." He sat on the couch playing Wii with the girl from the sixth floor and looked so big.
I had a little moment of panic. I mean, obviously I knew he was getting older. He turns NINE in less than two months and nine is OLD. But I just thought that he would stay little, longer. How does that happen? How do they get so big so freaking fast?
At least I still get kisses and cuddles before bed. For now...
I don't think I'm ready for a tween people. I really don't.