I was in ShopRite on Sunday with Tiny Monkey and a woman stopped me and said, “Oh! You are so lucky! I just love that age! Don’t you? They aren’t running around and are just sitting, happily in the cart. It’s my favorite age!”
I smiled and said, “It’s a good age!”
Because, it is a good age.
Everything she said is right.
Later that afternoon, we had been out shopping with all the monkeys who took to being dragged all over creation for boring things that didn’t interest them quite well.
We decided to take them to McDonald’s for dinner as a special treat, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t feel like cooking dinner that night.
Nothing.
Anyway, as Real Man and Tiny and I sat at one table and the other three monkeys sat at another table, and I thought to myself, “You know, this is a good age, too. Independent enough to want to sit alone, but not so independent that they want to be out of our line of vision. A good age, indeed.”
Because I happen to be so prolific in the creation of monkeys, I hear a lot of comments from people about the ages and stages they are in.
I get comments, like the one in ShopRite, on a fairly regular basis about all of the monkeys.
Most people seem to have a favorite age.
Or a least favorite age.
And, I get it. I do. I can see where certain aspects of an age might be exhausting or frustrating, but there are always balancing aspects that are exhilarating and phenomenal.
Right now I’ve got someone who is growing teeth and trying to crawl and getting frustrated by the things he is trying to communicate, but that same little guy is also so sweet and snuggly when I’m feeding him and lights up with a smile when we walk into a room and it is magical to watch him discover all the new things that life has to offer. 8 months is my favorite age.
I’ve got someone who is learning how to “do” school and is figuring out peer relationships and is dying to be just like his brother in so many ways, and yet he is making leaps and bounds with his independence and amazes me every day with the new things he has learned, because, in my mind, he is still just a baby. 5. My favorite age.
I have a boy who is anxious about almost anything that comes his way and can wring the last ounce of patience out of me on a regular basis as he fails to see that the little brother who is always wanting to do what he does isn’t trying to be annoying, but is participating in little brother/big brother hero worship, however, when that same boy sneaks into my room in the middle of the night and snuggles in and whispers, “I love you, Mommy” there is nothing…nothing that soothes my soul more. 7 is definitely my favorite age.
And, there’s the girl. The girl who is becoming a pre-teen and is full of more drama than you’ll see on Broadway or in Hollywood combined. Everything is fair game for becoming the next reason for foot stomping and tears, and yet, as I watch her develop into this lovely young woman who is bright and funny and articulate and sweet, I couldn’t be prouder of who she is becoming. 10 is SO my favorite age.
And people tell me, “Oh, you are so naive…wait until they become teenagers.”
But, you know something, I became a middle school teacher because, quite frankly, I love that age, too.
And when they go on to high school and come back to visit with big hugs and stories of their almost adult lives, I realize that, wow, I love THAT age!
You gotta take the bad with the good, because while it may not be all good, let’s face it folks, it definitely ain’t all bad, either.
