On the last day of school four sixth grade boys showed up at my house. They had grocery bags of ice cream and a separate bag with an ice cream scoop, spoons, and bowls just in case I wasn’t home and they had to enjoy their ice cream out on the deck. But they really hoped I would be home, because David had told them that we had ice cream cones, and some of them preffered a cone over a bowl.
I didn’t know this was happening; that there was going to be an ice cream celebration at my house on Friday at 2:25 p.m. I didn’t pay for anything or help with any of the logistics. I only recently got all of the boys’ parents’ numbers so I could text them to let them know where their kids were.
In case I’m not being abundantly clear, I had nothing to do with this.
This is what happened — at the end of the first school semester two of David’s neighborhood friends decided to celebrate by getting ice cream at a nearby grocery store. David happened to have an orthodontist appointment that day so he couldn’t join in, and at the end of the second semester one of the boys was sick. But for the third and fourth semester last-days, the tradition was off and running.
This is a far cry from the traditions I’ve planned and executed; the half-birthday celebrations or Easter basket scavenger hunts.
In fact, if I had tried to come up with some semester end tradition, it probably would have been lame. I would have cleaned up ahead of time and there probably would have been juice boxes and a text ahead about any lactose issues or peanut allergies. Typical mom.
The main difference, though, was all the energy I put behind those things. From the genesis to execution, and even during the event I’m the one standing there reminding everyone how much fun we’re having. Memories!
But this was all them.
For all the moaning and weeping I do about my kids getting too old too fast, I almost never talk about how amazing it is to see them grow. It’s not just that David’s feet are bigger than mine and Mary wears my sweaters, there’s SO much else happening. They’re funny, cool, creative. I don’t know how else to say it but it’s kind of crazy watching someone I used to spoon feed plan an ice cream party.
There was an entire phase of my life when all of my kids’ friends were my best friends’ kids, and all of their plans revolved around nap time and my plans. Now I don’t even know my kids’ friends — much less their parents. And I find out about their plans after the fact.
Maybe what’s happened is that they’ve grown in independence and I’ve lost control. And if it were up to me that never would have happened. I would always have had a firm grip and my eye on everything. And you know? It’s awesome.
It’s so cool, so fun to watch, and also unexpected. Everyone prepared me for first words, first birthday, first steps. Maybe this should be another entry in the baby book, “Talk about the time they made plans with friends,” and I’d write a weepy tale about my 12-year-old, his awesome friends, and their end-of-semester ice cream tradition.
