Time Passages

I'm not sure why but this morning felt like the end of something and the beginning of something else.

With Jude and Joe still in Monteagle for the end of fall break, J.P. and I had the house to ourselves last night when we arrived home.  As much as I enjoy family time, it's always good to have some alone time with J.P. or Joe. 

On the drive home, J.P. and I listened to one of my favorite Bill Simmons' podcasts of the year, the NBA over/under edition (w/Russillo and House).  It's not lost on me how lucky I am to have a son - two sons actually - who love sports as much as I do.  J.P. and I talked NBA basketball the entire rid home.

I picked up takeout from Burger Up and we watched the Dodgers-Braves NLCS game together until he went to bed about 9:30 p.m.  I gave him the option of staying up until the end of the game but he chose to go to bed, on time, on a school night.  That's J.P.  Responsible kid and a rule follower, like his mother.

I watched the end of the game (another Dodger late inning loss), then foolishly stayed up late, in bed, finishing an Ace Atkins (Quinn Colson) plot driven thriller I was reading on my iPad.  I wasn't particularly tired, possibly because I - also foolishly - drank a 20 ounce Red Bull on the way home from Monteagle.  Then, our damn cat, Mini, spent most of the prowling restlessly through the house, meowing loudly, probably pissed because I hadn't let her outside when we got home last night.

Suffice to say, I was tired this morning and somewhat surprised when J.P. walked into our room, downstairs, and said, "Good morning, dad," at just past 6:30 a.m.  I'd slightly overslept.  as I climbed out of bed, he added, "I can fix my own breakfast."  

And he did.  Scrambled eggs, toast, a banana, cheese, and a glass of milk, which is exactly what I would have made for him had I been on my game this morning.  We like our boys to eat real breakfasts, not an instant breakfast, like a Pop Tart or a granola bar.  So, while I showered, shaved, and put my suit on for work, J.P. quietly and diligently made himself a real breakfast.   

As parents, Jude and I are trying to raise our boys to be independent and self-sufficient.  J.P. is on the way there, so it seems.

I was proud and strangely enough, a little sad.  My oldest son is growing up before my eyes.  J.P. needs me, still, but maybe not quite as much as he used to.

And that's as it should be.