This morning didn’t go as I had originally planned.
Today my younger son is on his senior trip to Six Flags in Arlington, about four hours away (on a bus, no less). I figured I would drive him to his high school at 5:30 a.m., and then the Mister and I would pick him up there at midnight. We’d enjoy the short, 10-minute drive home listening to his happy stories.
Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!
But it wasn’t.
Yesterday the kid came home from school with a short announcement: “I’m going to see if Cody can give me a ride to and from school tomorrow.”
I was stunned. “But what about me?!?” I asked. “I was going to do that.”
“I’d prefer Cody.”
“What am I, an embarrassment?”
“Yes, you are, Mom.”
I blinked back a few tears, trying to recall when he used to think I was swell. Wasn’t that just yesterday?
I remembered back to when my dad would insist on wearing knee socks with his bermuda shorts in public during my teenage years. Now that was an embarrassment! Was I truly in that same category now?
As I watched the boys exit the driveway in Cody’s new truck, I tried to rationalize that it really was the vehicle that made the difference for my son. Isn’t riding in a pickup much cooler than an SUV?
I guess I’m just not ready to admit that I’m joining the Beanie babies, Hot Wheels, and Legos in the discard pile of my beloved baby boy’s youth.
Well, until he needs me to help him with his upcoming senior legacy project!