In all seriousness, my little boy is showing some big boy interests. Doodles is currently obsessed with Star Wars. He comes home from school with pictures that he’s asked his teacher’s to label, which he calls his “movies”: “Luke Skywalker and light saver,” “Star Wars reflections in outer space,” “Someone from Star Wars caught one of the laser blades,” “That’s the end, Star Wars laser blade movie.” At our neighbors house, he ogles the Star Wars pop-up book. He can tell you all about Anakin, who turns into Darth Vader. Thing is, he’s never seen the movie. And he won’t. Not for, oh, about a zillion years. You think I’m going to let the kid who is frightened of Swiper on Dora watch Star Wars? The kid who walked out of Ratatouille because it was too scary? Who refuses to go upstairs alone at night to get his pajamas? Oh, how he begs for the movie, but I stand firm. But it just seems so odd for my little guy to be blathering about Darth Maul and “light savers.”
But his interests really are changing. He wants to be read chapter books. He’s really trying to expand his food repertoire (with a bit of success, I should add!). He’s reporting with pride his job each week at school (this week he’s attendance taker). And today we got his kindergarten registration forms. I teased him about it: “You’re not old enough for kindergarten!” I said. He agreed. “I know. I’m four and a quarter. But soon I’ll be four and a half and after four and a half is four and three quarters and then is five and five is old enough and then I’ll go to kindergarten!” (Yet he can’t read a digital clock?)
My little baby. Not so much. How is this happening?
It is a source of joy and hartache at the same time isn’t it. At least he’s growing up cute.