chocolate and puddles and spoons

I was walking outside with our youngest son, who was four years old at the time. It had rained the night before and as I stepped over and around the puddles, he was jumping right in.


"How do you make mud?" I asked him as he made a truly spectacular splash.


He stopped to think for a minute. Then he smiled.


"First you dig a hole, then you put water and chocolate in it," he answered as he hopped over to the next puddle. "Next time let's bring a spoon."


I had forgotten this conversation until yesterday when I came across it in my journal. That cute little boy, who used to lick the foam off the top of my cappuccino, is now thirteen years old. He's playing basketball, finishing up a Future City science project, insisting (like boys everywhere) that he  does NOT need to wear a coat, and likes talking about engines and gears.


He's also taller than I am and yesterday when I needed to open a jar which was tightly sealed, I handed it to him and he popped it right open.


Sometimes it takes my breath away to stop and savor those moments when you realize your little boy is shedding his childhood and approaching life -- hesitantly, messily, but most assuredly -- as a young man. It is very humbling, more than a little scary, and all kinds of marvelous.


But I do miss those days of chocolate and puddles and spoons.