Friday, January 9, 2009
It sucks that you’re going to grow up.
I‘m not being selfish here. I‘m really not. It has nothing to do with me. I’m not collecting your booties and scrapbooking and feeling nostalgia for a time I’ll never have back. You’re going to grow up. I’ve accepted that. I’ve accepted that you’re gonna love me for the next eight to ten years, and you’re gonna hate me for about eight to ten years after that.
I’ve realized and accepted this. It’s reality. It has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with what awaits you when you do grow up.
Let’s face facts. Life doesn’t get any better. In fact, it just gets steadily worse until there is no life left at all. It starts with learning to crawl. And it seems like the most difficult thing in the universe to learn. But when you’re older, you’ll kill to have such single-minded goals.
And I’m so sorry that you have to go through that.
You had an accident yesterday while I wasn’t around. You got hurt when I wasn’t even in the same city as you. It’s not the first injury. It’s not the first trauma of your young life. It certainly won’t be the last. But every one is important. Every single injury is one more shred of innocence taken away.
And my job is to help you. To make things seem a little easier than they really are. Even when I’m struggling to keep my head above the water.
I really wish you didn’t have to grow up.