Yesterday morning was hard for The Boy. His tummy hurt, but he wasn’t really sick. Who knows what it was–this year has been tough. I had a rough 5th grade year too. Anyway–he walked around with his best friend, George. The Boy is 11 1/2, he is 5’1″ tall and weighs more than his sister, but his heart is tender, and George made him feel better.
Being a Momma, I’m in no hurry for him to set George aside. I don’t want to baby him or for him to stop growing and changing, but I also don’t want him to cast off his childhood. There is time yet.
As he and I were leaving after Tony and Victoria had gone in the other car, I said, “Buddy? Do you want to take George in the car today?” He shook his head no and said, “I don’t want to leave him in the car.” I asked, “Because he’d be lonely?” (I already knew the answer.) Thad nodded. So, I promised to take George into school with me so he’d be warm and not lonely. And I did just that. And each time I saw his little worn head sticking out of my bag, I thought of my Boy.
Last night before Scouts, Thad put George on the chair near the door. (It was a chair that belonged to my Granny.) And when Thad got back home, George was waiting to climb into bed with him.
Thad is mature for his age, responsible, thoughtful. He’s not super athletic. He likes sci-fi and has a big vocabulary. All of that makes a great student and will make for an even GREATER man, but currently he is NOT the coolest kid in 5th grade. As is the way of things, many of the kids in his class make no bones about that fact. So when Thad climbed into the car today telling me about a new friend he’d made, I innocently asked “What’s his name?” Turns out HER name is Zoe, and she was the tall, long-haired brunette that was talking to him in the car rider line today. They “met” because she was wearing a Doctor Who t-shirt. (My children are Doctor Who fans of the first order.) I found all of that out when he handed me a piece of paper that had her name and e-mail address on it.
George has been steeped in the waters of Thad’s babyhood and childhood–to be quite honest, George has at times been dampened by other liquids BESIDES the “waters of Thad’s childhood”–which then necessitated him being immersed in the waters of the washing machine. But George is still here. The letters are worn from his shirt, and only the faintest amount of a “g” remains. His fur is flattened, and his neck (where Thad used to carry him in his baby hands) is a little wiggly and floppy. When I hold George, I am tender and careful. I treat him gently, just like The Boy who still loves him. I know that when I hold George, I am holding something very, very precious.