The Sappy Doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree (Crying it Out Before the Boy’s Ninth Birthday)

Tonight it dawned on me that Newt, my “little guy,” is going to be 9-years-old in less than a week.

Newt was lying on his bed and doing the usual — drawing comics — when I had this realization, announced it with a dramatic, “Oh my gosh!” and then proceeded to feign tears into the sweatshirt that I’d pulled up over my eyes.

Elfie, his little sister, immediately alerted him to my distress, and when I looked up to see his face, I knew that Newt and I were screwed. See, we’re the sappy ones in the family. If there’s a sad, moving, sentimental, patriotic, or just plain beautiful part in a movie, a TV show, or even a commercial, I’ll guarantee you that Newt and I are crying at the exact same time.

So when our eyes met tonight and we realized that yes, he was going to be nine, and yes, he was growing up really quickly, and yes, our time together was slipping away faster than we’d realized, the two of us had one of our “moments.” He jumped off the bed and into my arms. I caught him and held him tight.

“You know, no matter how old you get, you’ll always be my baby. Even when you’re all grown up.”

I was already tearing up so I knew he was crying into the crook of my neck. He spoke so softly that I was the only other person who could hear him.

“I just always want to be able to jump into your arms.”

Photo by PartlySunny

So happy to see you grow. So sad to watch you go.