12 years old

Dear Alex

So 12 years snuck up on me. 12 years means 7^th grade. Junior high. Eek. A big adjustment that every family goes through. It doesn’t affect us the way it affects your non-homeschooled friends, but it still affects us. And by us I mean ME.

So 12. There are a few things I want to remember about you as you approach this milestone. The first thing, sort of a long story, but one that is so telling of your personality this summer. So I’ma tell it anyway

I snapped at you last week when your swimming coach had her hands full and you were completely oblivious. Which, don’t get me wrong, is totally normal for someone your age to not notice. But you notice these things. You always see it when someone else needs a hand and spring forward to save the day without any prompting from anyone.

Which is why I had to laugh at myself for getting mad at you at the pool that afternoon. Sorry bout that.

And for the record, when I pointed out the problem you did jump up and ask Coach Kelly what you could do.

The second thing I want to remember about you from this year isn’t exactly summer related. It’s school. I try really hard to emphasis the joy of learning and not the glorify the fact that you’re a bit of an overachiever. I’m a bit of a stickler about not comparing ourselves to other learners. It’s never a good idea to think that you’re better at something than someone else. Which is why I like that you’re in a class of 1.

That said.  This year with school we did something new. In August I handed you an entire years worth of curriculum and said “do it.” And that was all you needed as far as direction. You set your own pacing schedule, and organized all your own documents. You planned and organized the whole stinking thing without a bit of help from me. Which is so awesome. But the part of this story that surprised even me is how driven you were to keep yourself on track. Not only did you finish the entire years curriculum a month early, but you dug in and completed some of next year’s curriculum just for fun.

And yes, I did have to tell you to cool it more than once when you wanted to work on your lessons and I needed you elsewhere. Sorry bout that.

So to my just turned 12 year old boy. You rock. We love you. You’re fun to have around. And it thrills my heart that you seek out your dad and me for advice and companionship.

But you give the worst massages ever. EVER.

Yeah. You know what I’m talking about. Stinker.

Love,

Mom