I try to keep the "kids" out of the blog as much as possible. Well, it is impossible to do so all the time, as they are inspiration and assistance as much as offspring, but you haven't heard me gush with how great they are for a while, hmm?
What I wanted to tell you is how nice it is to have grown children. To be met at the airport by a daughter who happily takes you home from a long trip, chatting about her straight A's for her final exams and her plans for the University next year. She will be leaving me, going off on her own to become another person. The independent adult, not the soft little girl who still crawls into the couch next to me to put her head on my shoulder and check what I am up to.
I wanted to tell you about putting my arms about my little boy, hug him and find my head on his chest, only reaching his cheek if I get up on my toes and stretch. My wonderful cuddly pet, who would wrap his arms about my neck and never want to let go - tonight he is having an improvised barbeque with his friends, the June night at its darkest, and still it's light out, and I am just barely worried that they stay out this long.
I may be getting old. I am certainly maudling. But I have always thought what ever age my children were was the best. I recently decided I really love young adults. There is nothing better than seeing them grow into their potential. Who needs soft marsipan-sweet cheeks and sticky paws when I can have a firm jaw and a strong hand to carry the heavy suitcase or drive the car? Perfect.