Jack

Jack will be six in late May. He is without a doubt the coolest kid I've ever known. I would say that if I wasn't his mother. Anyone who knows him will tell you that. He's quite the social butterfly, he's the big man on campus. Everywhere we go, we see people who know Jack. Older kids, younger kids, teachers, other parents. Everyone knows him and thinks he's a righteous dude. He's a nice kid too, he'll befriend the one kid that no one else likes, and bring them into the fold. My cousin works at his school, and she has mentioned more than once that the kid is a freaking rock star. Jack has a posse. There are 5 of them. There are 5 little girls that have each chosen one of the boys as HERS.

The other day, Jack was wrestling with his dad, and told him that he was going to punch him in the nuts. We asked him if he even knew what that meant, he then proceeded to grab himself and tell us "these are my nuts". He wasn't talking about the jar of pecans on the counter. We asked who told him that and he informed us that his buddy was complaining that another kid had punched him in the nuts. I asked him if they were laughing and he told me "no mom, it hurt!". So we then tried to explain that the term nuts, while funny, is not appropriate. Then we explained that he will find that most funny things are not appropriate. That doesn't stop me but I don't want him telling his teacher that I allow him to call his little men nuts.

Tonight, he was talking to my friend Andy about girls. He said to her "those girls smell like...like..." and she said "poop?" and he said "no, no...they smell like those powdered donuts. And they smell goooood". He said this with a far off look in his eyes. Two months ago, when I asked him if he had a girlfriend, he not only said no, he told me to never ask him that again. He complained that the girls are just annoying and they won't leave the boys alone. All of a sudden these little vixens smell like powdered donuts? I mean, I know how Jack feels about powdered donuts. He LOVES them.

I'm not ready for nuts and chicks man. I'm still having a hard time dealing with the fact that he not only wipes his own butt, he showers by himself and goes to bed when he's tired. When he reads to me, it makes me want to cry. Mostly because the days of spelling things out to keep them a secret are almost over, but also because it means that he's growing up. The older he gets, the older I get. The older he gets, the closer he gets to thinking I'm an annoying pain in his ass. By habit I ask him if he's ok without even thinking about it. He no longer wants me to ask him that. If I do ask him, he gives me his exasperated look and tells me "MOM, stop asking me that!". You know it's coming. You know that any day now he'll be telling his posse that his mother is a psycho hose beast who needs to cut the cord.

I'm beyond proud of him, he makes my heart explode. But I want him to just slow down. At the rate he's going, he'll be out the door and cruising the poo'** before I can say "are you ok?"

**slang for a local street in our little burb called Kickapoo that the kids have cruised since my parents were in high school