Monday, September 23, 2013

At what point are you no longer the parent of a "little kid?"

Recently it was announced that the Voyager 1 space probe had become the first man-made object ever to leave the solar system.

Or maybe not.

Apparently it's complicated, and scientists have been arguing (as scientists will do) about exactly what Voyager 1 has accomplished. There's some dispute, I guess, over where the solar system actually ends.

I would argue that all of us who are parents have been or will be in a similar state of uncertainty.

At what point can you say that you no longer are the parent of a little kid? When they hit a certain age? And if so, what is that age? 7? 8? 9? Younger? Older?

Or is it when they reach a certain level of independence and maturity? If so, how do you measure that? Is it more feeling than knowing?

I'm not exactly sure. I'm the father of five children, four of whom are most definitely out of Little Kid-dom at the ages of 19, 16, 15 and 13.

But then there's Jack, my seven-year-old second-grader.

I'm not sure whether to call him a "little kid" or not.

On one hand, he does a lot of things for himself that even a few years ago we had to do for him. Like pick out his own clothes, fix himself lunch, take a shower, etc.

On the other hand, he still does things that are decidedly little kid-like. He still wears Sponge Bob jammies, for instance, and plays with toys in his room.

So is he a big kid or a little kid? Or maybe an in-between kid?

I don't know. All I know is that every milestone he achieves is a "last" for Terry and me. The last kid we'll potty train. The last kid I'll teach to ride a bike. The last kid to start kindergarten. And so on.

Some of these accomplishments are a relief, the kind of thing you get through, take a deep, satisfied breath, and say to yourself, "Thank God I never have to do that again!"

Other are sad, when you look forlornly at your child and realize he's growing up far too fast and that you would give anything for one more <INSERT YOUR FAVORITE LITTLE KID ACTIVITY HERE.>

Like Voyager 1 out there at the edges of interstellar space, I feel like I'm caught in a strange dead zone. Too old, really, to be fathering babies anymore, but clearly too young to be a grandfather.

I have a daughter in college with whom I only have contact every few days, and whose only problems I'm generally called upon to help with are related to her car, her laptop, or her homework.

Then there are my high school and middle school kids, all of whom seem to be doing fairly well despite my influence. They still need me for a variety of things, but far less than they did in the days when they wore diapers.

And then there's Jack, my last connection to parenting a young child. I've been a dad since 1994, and only now am I feeling for the first time that the job is really transitioning into something new.

You never stop being Dad, of course, but your job description does change.

You become more consultant than hands-on technician. Which is the way it's supposed to be and is fine and all.

It's just that I've been in the trenches with the parenting thing for so long that I'm not quite sure how to be hands-off. Like when to insert myself into a situation and when to let the child screw up and learn (God willing) from their mistakes.

As with everything else involved with parenting, that's a skill. And it's a skill at which, I'm assuming, I'll get better in time.

Probably just in time to change the name of this blog to "They Still Call Me Grandpa."

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