When Did That Happen?

I cleaned my son’s room today. This isn’t something I make a habit of doing; I think my future daughters-in-law will thank me for it someday. Usually all three boys are responsible for keeping their space clean, but today I was making room in Dylan’s bedroom for a bigger bed.

Sometime over the summer, his voice got deep and his shoe size shot past his father’s, and, if I had to guess, his overall body size is now past his dad’s, too. (Although Adam still has 1 1/2 inches on the kid in height, something he’s very quick to point out.)

Since my oldest son is now huge, he no longer fits on his twin bed, so we decided it was time to invest in something a little bigger. Thus the room-cleaning today.

As I sorted through Dylan’s things, it hit me like a tidal wave just how much he is changing this year. It’s more than the voice and the size, or even the contact lenses and perfectly-mussed hair.

There are still signs that he’s my little boy, a toy dragon shoved under the bed, the rock collection scattered across his bookcase… But the room is starting to be overtaken by things like a cell phone and football gear. His initial response when I ask, “How was your day?” isn’t to chatter my ear off, but to instead offer up a quick, “fine.” Sure, he’ll open up to me when I push for more details, but I can see the day is quickly coming where that might not be the case.

I love the young man Dylan’s become. He’s the son every mother dreams of having, and I thank God for the chance to be his mom. But sometimes, on days like today, I’m struck by the fact that when it comes to the time I have with him in my home, there are fewer days ahead than behind.

And I’m reminded to soak up every one of them.

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