Grounds for Growing Up

My eldest son, who recently turned 9 (and will be referred to as N in this blog), has been aching to do “big boy” things. Of course it is natural, and if you looked at my kid you might think he was 11. He is 4’9’’, and 91 pounds. He’s grown out of the size 4 ½ shoes I bought him just a couple of months ago. I think he feels older than he is and he wants to be grown up yesterday. Over the past month, he has asked to order pizza himself (and pay for it), shift the gears on Grandpa’s pickup, make and grill his tuna sandwiches, and work out on the treadmill.

After running on the treadmill for about 20 minutes, he announced to me that he had sweaty armpits and would require deodorant. I went along with it and let him use some all natural stuff I had stashed away (read: all natural=does not work in desert heat). How cute, I thought, he’s itching to be a big boy!

Well, the need to be big just keeps coming. Last night, he was moping around and I asked him if everything was OK.

“I want to do more big boy things,” N tells me.

“Like what?” I ask, bracing my self for having to explain why he can’t go swimming by himself or have a credit card.

“Mommy, I want to drink coffee.”

Thank goodness! This is something I can say “yes” to! I know he won’t like it, and even if he does, so what? A little caffeine will hurt him a lot less than the potential of danger in other things he has asked to do.

“Sure, honey, I will make you a cup of coffee in the morning,” I say with relief and enthusiasm.

“REALLY?” (he was expecting a NO) “ I can have coffee?”

“Yep”

“Will you pour it for me about the time you think I will get up and, Mommy, will you put in in one of the red cups?” And off to bed he goes knowing in the morning he will magically be a big boy.



I pour him a half a cup about 8:30 so it will cool off a little before he gets up. He greets me in the kitchen and I tell him that his coffee is waiting.

“I really get to have coffee?”

“Sure, do you want some sugar in it?”

“Yes, Mommy. I think that would be good.”

I put a spoon and a ½ of sugar in and give him the coffee. I settle back to answering emails as he sips at he coffee. He makes comments:

*sip*
This is a little bitter. (I add some cream and a little more sugar)
*sip*
Hey, I think I’m waking up!
*sip*
I think I would like the flavored kind.
*sip*
This is kind of bitter, ya know.
*sip*
*sip*
*sip*

It’s been about 20 minutes now. I walk past the kitchen table and see that more coffee has evaporated than N has drank. Obviously, he does not have a taste for coffee.

“Ya know N,” I say “drinking coffee does not make you a big boy. There’s lots of grown ups that don’t even like coffee. (Here comes my mistake!) Lots of grown ups drink tea instead.” Immediately I see his eyes light up and I realize I've opened a new can of growing up worms.

“Mommy, tomorrow, will you make me a cup of tea?”

“Sure buddy, tomorrow, you can have tea.”

Now I have to get to the cupboards and put away the 3492750235 different kinds of tea I have, or I see hours of tea tasting in our future!