Five days before turning 11, Huck experienced a fifth grade Northwest Arkansas rite of passage by having an overnight school trip to the Ozark Natural Science Center about an hour away.  One week prior to the trip, he began spending the nights in his brand new sleeping bag to get used to it. Not only that, but each night he systematically took something away (other blankets, extra pillows, me tucking him in) in order to be fully prepared for that one night in a cabin far from home. He’s such a mama’s boy homebody with a mild dash of OCD that the morning of his departure included repacking his duffle bag, reviewing his packing list, frantically making his famous eggs and eating them in under a minute, combing his hair, and a series of kisses and hugs that might have bordered on the clinically insane.  ”I’m a little nervous,” he confessed.  I resisted shouting a sarcastic “DUH!” and whispering a genuine “me too.”

Someone once explained to me that toddlers and tweens are experiencing the very same growth development. That is, you never know which they’re going to be at any given moment: a dependent baby who needs you for everything or an independent human trying to break away.  Huck is usually 50% one and 50% the other at the very same time. I think parents of both these groups behave similarly.  Aside from sleeping with his duffle bag next to him in order to protect his belongings, he had a good experience on the school trip and returned with stories of four hour hikes, amazing food and campfires.  Aside from glancing into his empty bedroom more often than necessary, I too had a good experience and enjoyed a rare mid-week date night.

Today is the first March 7th since 2005 that I’m not spending with Huck from morning till night.  He’s finally decided to attend school on his birthday, which means I will be attending work. He talked himself into this plan by deciding that the entire weekend before (which included his birthday slumber party) and the entire weekend after (which will include Aunt Jeni’s annual visit) would be treated as one long birthday.  Let’s face it: when you’re an only child everyday is a birthday celebration. But for me, mom, nothing compares to March 7th.

Happy birthday to my brainy, argumentative, funny, bossy, sweet, impossible, perfect, one and only boy.