I dread the teenage years

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Evan is gonna give us a run for our money.

Jensen has an official Cub Scout t-shirt that he wears to school on meeting days. He's very proud of it.

Yesterday at breakfast he explained gravely to Evan and me, "It's Tuesday today, so I'm wearing my Cub Scout t-shirt to school. That's the rule, and it's serious. I can only ever wear it on Tuesday."

Without batting an eyelash, sweet Evan put down his spoon and said, thoughtfully and to no one in particular, "You know what I'd do if I had that shirt? I'd wear it on Saturday."

Then he turned back to his Raisin Bran.

If Jensen had an aneurysm anywhere in that curly head of his, it would have blown then and there. He had to physically restrain himself from knocking Evan's little block off.

Seriously. Evan's very life teeters in the balance some days and he doesn't even know it.

The First Day

How do I begin this without sounding like a cliche?

I'll just jump in: Evan is at preschool.

For the very first time. I'm just trying to process that right now.

When I took him, I asked him if he wanted me to stay for a few minutes or if he was ready for me to leave. He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, "I'm ready for you to leave now."

My heart swelled into my throat. It's still there.

I don't know what it is that I'm feeling right now. Pride. Love. And some sadness. My eyes sting a little.

The house sure is quiet right now.

I love you, little Evan.