Yesterday at 2:30, when I went on the mother’s walk of shame to meet my growing 11-year-old boy at the bus stop, I saw through the drizzle that Jake spotted me, looked up into the trees, and, honest to goodness, whispered, “Thank you,” to the God that he must have prayed to when he got off the bus and realized he had a long walk home in the rain with his trumpet, his backpack, and yup, no umbrella.
This makes me thankful on a couple of fronts:
1. It’s the first time I’ve witnessed Jake personally acknowledge the presence of a/the higher power on his own initiative. Cool–I guess kids aren’t completely self-centered after all.
2. I am vindicated in my long held position that weather really does have an effect on Jake, despite his long time insistence of, “Mommmm, I’m alrighttttt.”
3. Despite my boy’s sometime grimaces when I hug, kiss, mush, or otherwise show affection to him in public, he actually does sometimes like seeing me when he gets off the bus, if only for the extra horsepower I provide.
Let me tell you, at this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.