The Man-boy.

We have been having us some serious rain lately. So much that the leak around the chimney in my bedroom has revived and is making hay while the sun don't shine. And whenever we have lots of rain, the "river" out back gets crazy. Usually it's not much more than a slow trickle - kind of murky and slow and nasty looking - about 20 feet across. That's how it was Sunday afternoon when Elijah and his friend, Jonathan, took two scooters across to the other side so they could ride said scooters down the steep slope and INTO THE RIVER. Ahem. Usually you just walk across and it's only about ankle deep, which is what they did that day with the scooters. When the scooter-fun wore off, they got interested in something else, like maybe Tarzan swinging out over the water, and left their vehicles on the other side.

Then came the rain. A LOT of it.

Yesterday morning Elijah remembered the scooters on the other bank and asked me to go down with him so he could swim across and retrieve them. We got down there and the water was rushing, swirling, at least three feet higher than normal. I took one look and said, "Elijah, I cannot, under any circumstances, call your daddy in Detroit and tell him I let you get swept away in the river. The scooters will have to wait."

To my surprise, he didn't protest. He had already felt how cold the water was and saw how quickly it was rushing. It struck me though, that the same boy who would ride a scooter down a steep, muddy slope into a river had enough common sense not to go down to the same river, now rushing and swirling, alone. I believe I see faint glimmers of maturity.

That said, this is the same boy who, on the way home from a dental cleaning yesterday morning, accused me of taking him to the "devil's office." And might occasionally build entire lego towns. And primps for 30 minutes before going to church. And still has hundreds of hot wheels cars. And works like a man. And still has a favorite stuffed animal.



The little boy inside the young man. I love this stage.

Be thankful ~

Karen