Declan is 8. Almost 8 and and half, actually.
Lately, it feels like he is a man.
Eight has been wonderful so far. His level of maturity has jumped by leaps and bounds. Sure, there are moments of regression into early childhood spaz… but HELLO.
*I* do that on a regular basis.
What has been oozing out of him lately is this sense of… self. Like – in his pores – he is now his own person, he knows it, we know it, and we can have conversations about it. We can talk about what he likes, doesn’t like, in rational ways.
Even more than that – they are interesting conversations.
Something went down at his school this week that was pretty shocking. Not that anyone was hurt or anything, not physically at least – but a teacher acted so immaturely, so irrationally, I could hardly believe it when I heard about it.
I won’t go into details to protect the people involved, but let’s just say that one teacher used the kids of the school, and pitted them against another teacher. To where these little elementary school kids were CRYING over the conflict. Like parents who go at it in a bad divorce.
When Bryan talked to Declan that night, he was pretty upset. But apparently, he also had a plan. He suggested that he make up ballots, and everyone could vote about the situation.
My 8 year old acted more thoughtfully, more maturely, than the adults involved.
I couldn’t have been prouder.
But part of me also freaked.
My baby is gone.