H has taken to calling me Lacey. Not all the time, but sometimes. Mostly he does it just when he really wants to get my attention (much in the way his father does). It’s adorable because he pronounces is “Waytzee” and I can’t help but smile as I correct him – “Mommy”. He’s growing up too fast. What if he turns into one of those kids that calls their parents by their first names? I’m not ready for that. I’m not even ready to THINK about that.
This morning when I dropped him off at daycare, the girls were watching Mickey Mouse and he threw himself on his belly, propped his head up on his hands and got to watchin’ with them. When I said “Bye, bye honey, I love you” all I got was this hand in the air, waving me on – just acknowledging that he heard me.
What?
No “Bye Mommy, wub you.”
No “See you waiter”
Nothing! Nada! Zilch!
Just this hand in the air that was all like “Okay, okay, I get it – get to steppin’ lady.”
Two weeks ago he would have to run to the window and waved to me as I pulled out of the driveway and would scream “bye bye” so loud that he probably woke the neighbors. Now? Notsomuch.
In that moment I had this glimpse into my future. My punk kid who is too busy watching [insert random show teenage boys like here] to even acknowledge his mother. And when he did, he probably called me Lacey…
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