I used to cut up his food in very small pieces.
I kept him in his stroller for years, seat-belted in, so he wouldn't wander away from me.
Don't let him near the dock of the bay! He might fall straight to the bottom and drown!!
He was 10 years old before he was allowed to ride his bike in the street.
He had to be 12 years old and 80 lbs before he could ride in the front seat of my car.
The control freak momma in me was able to do all these things to keep my first born safe.
Tonight, after basketball tryouts, Billy got in the car and told me he didn't make the team. Tears welled up in his eyes. Then tears welled up in my eyes. I asked a couple of questions and then the rest of the ride was quiet, except for our sniffling.
I couldn't protect him from the disappointment. It felt terrible.
And so it begins. The journey to adulthood. Being there but letting go. Learning when to speak and when to stay quiet. Knowing when to offer a hug and when to back off.
Billy has never been one for showing affection. Tonight was no different. All I wanted to do was grab him and hug him. He definitely did not want that.
So I made him a milkshake instead.
Whatever it takes to let him know I love him.