“I want to drive” he tells me so sure of himself from the driver’s seat.
“You have to wait until you are 18.” I’m standing by the passenger door waiting for him to jump into his booster and see his face light up as he hears 18. Eighteen was the number of eggs he brought home from school after his Easter egg hunt. “How old are you now?”
He brings his hand up – trying to only show three fingers. “Three”
“Ok. So you are not eighteen”
“Noooooooooooooooo!” he screams as if 18 was such a big number.
“So come on back.” He listens to me this time and moves. I buckle him up. I kiss him and hug him and cherish every second of our romance.
I get in the car and realize he had just done everything like I do. Get in the car – turn on the a/c – turn on the radio – get into gear. “Will you drive me around when you are 18?” I ask realizing it will probably be 16.
“Yes!”
“Where are you going to take me? To work?”
“Yes.”
I smile. We are at stop sign. A young man driving a van is stopped next to us an older man sits next to him. They are serious and silent. Will that be us in 15 years? I hope not. I think about writing all the things he tells me in a notebook and then remember this blog – I should print out some of the posts and make something for him.
When we get home he asks me to watch the Frogs in School – it is some Leapfrog movie he has seen like a million times in the last three weeks. Netflix is not coming on. I am on the phone making a payment. He takes the debit card off my hand and I don’t resist. After all the shredder is off. Right? We turned it off. Right? Right? Wrong. The blue card becomes nothing in a matter of seconds. I’m just saying NO. He is laughing and says “NO” back to me. The guy at Chase found it hilarious when I said I needed a new debit card ’cause the other one my son had destroyed. I’ll get a new one in what seems a long time. And yes the shredding thingy has been unplugged.
Cada segundo que compartimos con ellos es ORO! que divino es este amor!