going solo

Last night was Skate Night at Schmitty's school. I took him after his piano lesson and it was there that I learned (again) my little boy is growing up.

We went in and I paid for admission and skates for both of us. When we got to the counter to get our skates I asked if he wanted me to skate with him assuming he'd say yes. I was so confident that I'd already paid for my rental. "No, that's okay. I'll skate with my friends first." Oh. He went out there and I sat near the snack bar watching. I waited all evening for an invitation that was never extended. Gone are the days of the two of us holding hands and skating around as fast as we can, giggling wildly.

I spent his early years dressing him in argyle sweater vests and reindeer sweaters around the holidays. His hair was cut and gelled just so. Now he reads greek mythology books about vampires, wears a dragon necklace and his favorite school shirt is a t-shirt that says "Caverns of DOOM" under a bat. Throw in a flaming skull tattoo and he's ecstatic. The nerve of my little boy.

I couldn't help but laugh at the skating rink when they started playing YMCA and Schmitty thrust both fists in the air with index, pinky fingers, and thumbs extended. That was too funny. Oh and at the end when he tried break dancing, I nearly busted a gut.