On my way home, I was driving up an adjacent street that is one of the ones where the kids trick or treat, and remembering that reminded me of how hard it hit me the past couple years that the kids stop being little so quickly. Worse, I feel like there was a time warp from when they were truly little kids and quite dependent to the time when they were, for all practical purposes, largely independent teenagers. The youngest hasn’t even turned 12 yet, but he was “a teenager” when he was ten, from this perspective.
There were the years of walking around with them, trick-or-treating, or even carrying the youngest ones. Then suddenly they were entirely on their own. It seems like the blink of an eye. Three consecutive years of kindergarten and then another five until the final one would complete elementary school seemed interminable… until suddenly the end of it was upon us and the oldest only had another year before high school. Then it didn’t seem so long after all.
It seemed like taking them to playgrounds would always be a thing. Suddenly they were big and not interested in that any more, and I regretted the times, including the last time or two they’d have wanted to go, when I didn’t feel like it, or the car couldn’t be driven.
I worry about all the things we didn’t do, the fun things, because of money, and them getting old enough not to care or to be adults in their own right without any of it happening. It’s not like I mean taking them to Disney World and spending a fortune. I mean taking them to a relatively local place everyone here goes to when they’re a kid, like Canobie Lake Park. I see that it’s $36 each and I’m horrified, but maybe we’ll go anyway, but maybe next year…
It flies by. And I may be too old to spoil the grandkids instead.