Monday, September 24, 2007

Apple picking, and what it taught me

Son is at such an awkward age...believe me, it's not awkward for HIM, but for me because I don't know how to react at any given moment; he's not a child, exactly, but he's not quite a Tween, either. He still wants me to kiss him goodnight, but has ZERO interest in me reminding him to brush his teeth after each meal so that he can put his retainer back in. And, in case you were wondering, girls are yukky and he plans to live alone, but very much wants to be a daddy. How do you answer that? "Sorry, son, but you'll actually have to have yukky sex to make that happen?"
I am doing the best I can as his mother (and he is doing his best as My Son), both of us moving in to this new stage in his life, but sometimes we clash over the silliest thing.
This past weekend, we went apple picking, something neither of us have ever done before. I looked at the trees, and carefully selected the fruit I wanted. He, on the other hand, saw an apple at eye level, and ripped it from the tree so he could place it in my bag.
Him: "Here you go, Mumma!"
Me: "But it's not ripe. Look at the gorgeous colour on the apple I picked, how I looked at it from 360 degrees before I picked it, I got the best fruit possible because we are paying good money for this so I want the best."
Him: "Oh, sorry. I just picked it because it's fun."
He can learn much from me. But I can learn so much more from him.

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