Sittin' on the Fence

My firstborn went to the Sweetheart Dance at the Middle School last week. It was his third dance of the year, but the excitement level was every bit as high as the first. He *loves* going to the dances. He loves them so much that when in deep caca earlier in the year he willingly accepted a whole month of screen time restriction (no TV , video games, or computer time) so that he could attend a dance. That's a lot of love.

I haven't been allowed to chaperone so I only have the word from my spy network to rely on. Apparently he's quite a little dancer, often break dancing with a large group of kids cheering him on. He comes home with tired, aching feet but the rest of him so wired that he can't go to sleep. And as I'm sitting in his room listening to him regurgitate the exciting events of the evening, I can't help but wonder where my baby went. How is it possible he can be going to middle school dances already, willingly dancing with girls, and (gasp) LIKING IT?

But something happened at this dance that shone a light on the reality of the situation. He lost a tooth while breakdancing. A baby tooth! At almost 12 years old he still has a number of them in his mouth, although I think this was the last one from the front. It was totally surreal to hear him talking one minute about where to find the tooth fairy box and discussing in the next breath who he slow danced with.

Reflecting on the events of the night, I couldn't think of more perfect symbolism for the stage of life Michael is in right now. He's sitting right on that fence that separates kids from teens. He wants to like girls, but he doesn't want to like girls. He want to hug me goodbye in front of the school, but he doesn't want anyone to see. He wants to take more responsibility in some areas of his life, but he's not quite ready for it yet. He goes to middle school dances and loses baby teeth.

There's a spot for me on the fence with him: I don't want to rush him into the teen years but I don't want to hold him back either. I'm constantly unsure of how much to push and how much to pull. I'm proud of him, I want to see him mature, but I want to keep him little for as long as I can.

I'm going to let him sit up there as long as he wants.