Today I am celebrating a rite of passage. My oldest child, and only son, is attending his first semi-formal dance this evening at the age of 14. He isn’t interested in the attire but he wants to hang out with his friends nonetheless. He has asked several times why the school is being so strict and making the kids wear such clothes. “Why can’t we just wear our regular clothes?” I tell him the school staff probably just want this event to be something special since next year, it’s on to high school.
I would love to be a fly on the wall watching all the boys as they awkwardly adjust their first-worn ties as the girls across the room giggle and chat about which boys are the cutest (or in today’s terminology, the “hottest”). I can’t wait to see his expression when I tell him I want to take pictures…at the dance… (just kidding. Even I wouldn’t embarrass him that much). I will drop him off at the dance with just a pat on the arm to squelch the potential ribbing from friends due to observing a hug from mom. Just a couple of months ago, I gave him a hug as I dropped him off at school one morning (he usually rides the bus). He gladly reciprocated – until the next time I dropped him off at school. As we approached the drop off, Cubs said, “Last time you brought me to school, some of my friends asked me if I gave you a kiss on the cheek!” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud and then squeezed his hand in a loving, unobservable “embrace.” I said, “Oh I get it, you don’t want your friends to see that you love your mom.” 
He said, “Mom…you know I love you,” as he slipped quickly out of the car.
My boy’s growing up.
