My son will turn 8 this weekend. He's a good kid; a generation or two ago he would have been called 'well-adjusted'. He's popular with his friends, behaves appropriately but at times is prone to bouts of silliness, gives it a try in sports, is excited about church, and does well in school.
Lately, though, he's had fits of crying and sadness, often minutes after going to bed but also at other times of the day. Most kids in that situation have just awoken from bad dreams, or they remember a bad incident that happened at school. But not Jacob. Jacob is sad because he is growing older. He recalls the joy of being a childhood and doesn't want to leave that behind. For him, childhood has meant bike rides with dad, playing with friends, snuggling with mom, trips to the ocean and Disneyland, and a church family that loves him. And that, he says, is what he doesn't want to give up.
I suppose I've never been like that, or at least that I can recall. I've always responded to the 'next stage' of life as as a given. You get older and that means you start to drive, you go off to college, you start working, you get married, you have kids. I turned 45 a few months ago and don't think obsessively about it. I get nervous about the future at times, but have never lost my mind over such things. I've never worried that I am getting old. What I thought might seem old many years ago simply IS. A few more aches and pains and pounds, a few more responsibilities, a little bit more wisdom (I hope). But I've never spent much time dwelling on getting older any more than trying to look back and be thankful for past and hopeful for the present.
My son, though, is a different animal. He's always been much more deliberate about the world in front of him. He 'sees' in a way that is different. And no, I'm not going down this road of 'MY CHILD IS A GENIUS' because I know that's not the case, because at times common sense and he do not appear to be friends, and because his idea of a good joke still seems to be sitting on my lap and farting and then laughing uproariously.
And so I wonder how to deal with this. I'm not sure it's enough for us to say that it's great to get older, that he has so much to look forward to. For him memories are much more real tangible than the future. I can talk all I want about how he'll have more great things happen or how age isn't just a number, but maybe I need to just be quiet and let him weep a little bit for his childhood. 8 seems early for that, but maybe it's good for him to already be learning some introspection.
