Growing Pains.

Things have changed around here this summer.

Big things.

I don't know exactly when it changed.

Maybe it was gradual or maybe it happened all at once.

It seems shockingly fast.

But I'm really not even sure.

Here's the thing: my kids are growing up.

Quite suddenly it seems.

This may not sound like big news to you. But it is to me. See, they've been small since we've met. They have needed me quite intensely our entire relationship. I have provided for them. I have entertained them. I have comforted them. Every single day. For over 3,000 days. 

And I've come to expect this dynamic. I expect to be included in their games. If they are hungry for a snack I'm used to hearing about it. When they wake up in the morning they visit snuggle with me in bed. When something is on their mind or heart, I hear about it. When they draw a picture, they show it to me. This is the way of our world. It is a symbiotic relationship. 

But I feel the winds of change blowing. 

I see a new independence blooming. 

They play independently. Often with their doors closed. 

They find their own snacks and sometimes clean up after themselves. 

They wake up and occupy themselves without so much as a peep. 

But the kicker was this: elevator buttons. We've always had arguments over who pushed elevator buttons. We had our system -- one pushed the button to call the elevator and the other pushed the floor button. This seems fair, but for some unknown reason the floor buttons on the inside are coveted far more than the simple up and down arrows. Much more. So we have to keep track of who pushed up or down last time and who pushed the floor button. And then we switch. And so on and so forth. 

So last weekend when we were in New Orleans we had not one, but two elevators to deal with -- one for the parking garage and one for the hotel proper. Adding another set of buttons with which to keep up with only adds to the complexity and inevitable break-down of the system, and accordingly, the two little people who then scream "that's not fair." 

But alas, there were no fights or score keeping. 

About half way through our short trip Little Miss Thang looks at me and says: "Have you noticed I haven't hit any of the elevator buttons." 

I'm not sure I had. I think I was too distracted by drunk middle-aged women swaying and cursing in front of my children to notice.

"It's only a button." She declares. 

Get out of town. I've been saying that for YEARS! 

Seriously, if they start acting civilized and all grown-up on a regular basis I'm simply not sure what I'm to do with myself!