Tired

The Diary of a Not So Ordinary Boy

Last Saturday it was Sam’s birthday party.  Sixteen years old.  How did we get here? I can hardly believe it.  Gone is my baby, the small innocent boy, and in his place is a fledgling man.  He flexes his muscles, and chafes at a lack of independence. Detentions make no difference to his truculence in school.  He is not tall, although his voice has deepened and his cheeks are rough. When I observe the sons of my friends my heart skips a beat at the height and breadth he does not share. Nevertheless, my boy is growing up, and I am proud.

We took him and a group of his friends ten pin bowling. After a game in which there was much laughter and mutual helping and taking turns (no adult presence required), they shared a meal, and waited politely for cake and candles (it takes longer than you think…

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