We are in the midst of high school finals week and, believe me, it is not a week we enter into lightly. There are lots of tears and gnashing of teeth and then, when I am finally calm, the real studying begins. You know there is a lot of stress because most of the conversations I have had with my son recently revolve around topics such as 'uber-mensch' and its possible application, C.S. Lewis' philosophy on moral law and Punnet Squares. My brain hurts.
Because there are two tests per day, I have the benefit of eating lunch with my son for the three days of finals. Yesterday, as I sat across from my 'almost-man' (no, I suppose I never did believe he would grow up this quickly) as he expounded upon the the differences between moral and natural law, I could not help but think back to when he was just a newborn and how terrified I was that I might break him or worse, somehow ruin his life forever by making some poor parenting choice. I remember standing and watching him through the one-way mirror at his preschool silently mouthing (but screaming inside) 'play' as he stood in the center of the room questioning why I had left him there alone. I continued to watch him each time I dropped him off, praying that this time he would engage, make a friend, at least do something instead of just standing there. Finally, the day before Thanksgiving (yes, folks, my darling baby boy subjected me to this form of mommy torture for that long), he left the center of the room and started playing and I knew he would be fine. Now as we discuss his study strategy for the rest of finals and he tries to engage me in one of his theoretical discussions on moral law, I have proof that he is just that--fine. No, he is just perfect to me.