Like just about every other mom around, I teared up a few times during “Toy Story 3.” There is something about watching a little boy make his way toward manhood that tugs ever so firmly at the heartstrings, apparently even boys of the animated variety. After years of seeing Andy relish the joys of childhood, just as I have my own son, the smallest hint of him leaving it all behind was a little too much parallel for this mom not to shed a few tears.

I want my son to grow up; that’s what this whole thing is about. We are supposed to take someone completely helpless at birth and raise them into an independent being. Why the realization that we are successfully doing so can throw such a large wrench into a mother’s heart is beyond me, however. The joy is there, but it is somewhat overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling that it’s all happening too fast.

My theory is that whatever mechanism allows us to recall a little thing our husband forgot to do twelve years ago as if it were twelve minutes ago also keeps our children’s milestones extremely close in mind. I can’t so much as buy my son a pair of shoes without wondering how he could possibly be a big boy’s size 2 already when it feels like I was just buying him his first pair yesterday. How could my little boy already be one of the big boys?

All of the signs are there. The once-ever-present Thomas the Tank Engine table has been replaced with soccer balls and baseball bats. “Candyland” and “Chutes and Latters” have been swapped out for Super Mario Bros. My son would much rather watch a Mud Hens game or “Wipeout” than “Clifford the Big Red Dog.” The turnover of interests that takes place in the first seven years of life is quite an astounding thing and is a constant reminder that stages certainly don’t last forever.

Even Jack’s friends are screaming “big boy invasion.” Pictures of purely innocent preschool faces and side by side tricycles are giving way to photos of missing teeth, dueling Nintendo DSes and lots of over-the-head bunny ears. The backyard seems to be shrinking in its capacity as a makeshift playing field, and one large pizza is surely no longer enough. The big boys are taking over, and they are here to stay.

My son has hit the jackpot as far as a nice group of friends is concerned and I now look forward to watching them grow into young men along side my own little guy. As touched as I was to experience my oldest niece’s high school graduation recently, I was equally taken emotionally by an unknown group of her fellow graduates standing outside after the ceremony. A crew of five or six newly-inaugurated men, now also newly graduated, stood with their mothers for a group picture as I caught a glimpse of my not-so-distant future.

Having the great fortune to have found myself in the midst of such a tight-knit crew by the end of my son’s kindergarten year, I look to one day stand side by side with my fellow mothers and our newly-inaugurated, newly-graduated young men as we tearfully prepare to hand them over to the world at large after a job well done. For now, I will continue to bemoan how second grade sounds so much older than first grade (and third so much older than second and fourth so much older than third). I will put aside all I know about Jay Jay the Jet Plane to instead memorize which type of cleat goes with which sport. I will remember to order enough pizza. I will attempt to realize and accept that my little boy isn’t quite so little anymore and will only keep getting bigger.

However, no matter how big he gets I will continue to love my big boy like he’s still my little boy – to infinity and beyond.

Shannon and her husband Michael are raising three children in Sylvania.

E-mail her at letters@toledofreepress.com.

Tags: Family Practice

This entry was posted on Friday, June 25th, 2010 at 12:00 am and is filed under Arts and Life, Family Practice.
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