Boys Growing Up

We got a letter from Davis today, which he wrote almost a week ago, and he says he is mighty home sick. He says he knows he will be able to get through school but that the home sickness is the biggest challenge. That letter made my stomach clench with sympathy, but my brain keeps telling me that he will be fine and soon he will make friends and love his school.

That's all part of growing up.

Davis isn't the only one having to grow up a bit this week. Lawson began eighth grade today. Through the past seven years, Lawson, unlike his brother, has vehemently resisted getting up and ready for the day. Slowly he's improved, but this year Lawson's dad gave him a little surprise:

"This year you're going to ride your bike to school."

After a pause, Lawson replied, "I'd rather not do that."

"Why not?" I asked. I thought he would like the independence.

"Because when we ride our bikes to and from school," he said, "we have to stand around in the parking lot and wait for all the cars to leave before we can go home."

Horrors.

"That's for your safety," I said. "They want the traffic to die down."

"But still," Lawson complained. "We have to stand around for at least thirty minutes."

No sympathy from the mom who has to drive forty-five minutes one way to go to work. "But when Davis was in the eighth grade, he rode his bike to school, and he didn't have to wait around to come home."

"That's because Sister Roberta wasn't the principal then."

"But Sister Roberta isn't the principal now," Stephen said. "We have Mrs. Butler now."

"But she'll probably still make us wait to last to go home." Lawson was determined to offer every excuse available.

"So let me get this straight," I said. "You'd rather Dad and I interrupt our schedules and drive half an hour from town to pick you up just so that you won't have to ride your bike around the corner?"

He paused for almost a whole minute before replying. "I didn't say that. I just said I'd rather not do it."

"Well," Stephen replied. "Guess what?"