July 9, 2014:  Huck, age nine years, four months and two days.

He’s having a great time at art camp while I have a great time at Shakespeare camp in the same building. Due to our close proximity, I seek him out everyday during our lunch breaks that overlap 15 minutes.  I happily hike down a grassy hill with my JONNY name tag around my neck swinging in the breeze and a smile on my face. There he is sitting under a shady tree with his HUCK SCHREMMER name tag stuck to his shirt.  There’s laughter and joking and game playing with several girls he will quote all evening long.  As I approach, one of them says, “Is that your mom?” in a kind of low tone. He barely glances at me and then answers “yeah” in a similar lowish tone.   They continue their game.  I awkwardly say, “Hi, guys!” trying not to sound too lonely.  I think he says hi but maybe he doesn’t.  After the world’s longest minute I nonchalantly shout, “Well, bye!” and slowly stumble back up the hill in my flip-flops to join the teenagers who like me.

Later I broach the subject, checking to see if maybe he’d rather me not come say hi at lunch.  He says maybe not while he’s in the middle of a game.  I also mention that one of the teachers said that parents can pop into the studio at any time and see what the kids are creating.  He tells me I can do that as long as no one sees me.

Oh, but when I pick him up come 3:00 it’s a different story.  There’s eye contact, conversation, hand holding, and he is seemingly fine with my visibility.  Still, I worry that at any moment he will cancel my mushy lunch box love notes.

The times, they are a’slowly changing.