My kiddo turns 4 in two days. Big guns, people. We're all very excited for her Hello Kitty Dance Party, complete with cupcakes and pizza. We've been on the countdown for a few months, ever since her BFF had her birthday celebration (dino-themed, of course). Yes, not only have we been counting the days, we've been talking presents.
We aren't a huge present-giving family. We don't go overboard. A few books, a few stuffed cats, and maybe one toy item. That's it. But this year, she wants something big. She wants a scooter. Many of her friends have them, they zip down the sidewalks -- yes, helmets are on. Kiddo has asked every other day for a pink scooter, which she tells me she will adorn with as many stickers as possible.
And yes, she is getting one -- don't tell her! -- it's pink, as requested. She will be sosososososo thrilled. Me? I'm freaking out.
I am afraid of my kid's scooter. I've been very honest about my fears. My many fears. Confessed many here at The Stir. Fear of heights, spiders, clowns, playground sand, dresses, frilly things, washing raw chicken, balloons. But this scooter thing really has me all sorts of freako.
I will buy her a helmet, shin guards, what have you. Heck, I'd get her in full body armor if I could, but they don't make one in her size. It isn't the "wow, she could get really hurt" factor of the scooter. No, it is the fact that she's growing up -- that fact, that bit o' info smacks me in the face every time I see the cute two-wheeled transport in the corner. Bikes are next, then walking two feet in front of me with her besties, giggling. Then taking the subway by herself. I think I may need medication for that one.
It isn't any different than any mom feels as they see something her little one is doing and -- all of a sudden -- there's an uber-fast-forward movie in her mind of the kid growing up. The science fair, the first date, the going off to college, the getting married, the giving birth, the holding your hand as you are old.The milestone extravaganza that flashes through every parent's mind at one point. Makes me wonder if I am scared of Kiddo growing up ... or me growing old?
I know, way too heavy. If my grandfather were still alive, he would tell me one of his favorite quotes: "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." One day at a time, Heather, one day at a time. What I should really be scared of: baking 72 birthday cupcakes in an oven so old and broken I have to use a wrench to turn the knob and just hope it is the right temperature.
What scares you about your kid growing up?
Image via Elizabeth/Table4Five/Flickr