It was bedtime, and I was busy turning down Jedi’s covers as he finished his business in the bathroom. This included tucking in his stuffed teddy bear and lion on the pillow next to where he lays. When the door opened and he urged me in.
“Hey, Mommy, come in here”, Jedi ordered. “Lean in close to the mirror, like this”, he instructed, his body hunched over the bathroom counter.
Following directions while standing over his curls and mouth full of mixed-age teeth, I asked, “OK, what am I looking for?”.
My 7 year old son began to wipe across his top lip with his fingers, as if straightening a mustache. “Do you see this?”, he wondered earnestly. “Do I have facial hair?”
“What?”, because really.
“I think I have facial hair”, he repeated.
“No, you do not. Not yet. Maybe a little bit of fuzz, like on your arm.”, I told him, referring to the baby fine wisps that you have to strain to see.
“Yep, facial hair”, he declared brightly. Then, in what I can only describe as his best Austin Powers impersonation, he pronounced, “I’m a man!”.
A man who still needs his mommy to tuck him in at night and sleep with his stuffed animals to keep him safe. I don’t think I have anything to worry about just yet. We’ll deal with it sooner than I’d like, though. So my little boy, slow down. There’s no need to grow up too fast.