If you have been reading this on a regular basis, you know that things with Bud, my sisxteen year old son have been strained for the better part of the past year. (And if you haven't you can read about it here: http://nonishooksandneedles.blogspot.com/2012/05/having-rug-pulled-out-from-under-me.html). Recently, I realized how much I miss him. I miss the way we used to pick a dvd to watch together. I miss our Boggle tournaments, just he and I. I miss singing along to a Beatles CD in the car with him. I miss my little boy. There was a line on the sitcom "The Middle" a few years back that really hit home with me. I can't remember it exactly, but it went something like this: "There he was! My sweet little boy was trapped in the hideous shell of a teenager." Boy, did that hit home.
A few days ago, Bud came home from school and started telling me about an assignment he had done. Being the week before Thanksgiving, his advisory group had been given the task of writing a letter of thanks to someone.
"I couldn't see the sense in writing you to tell you thank you for anything," he said, pushing a knife deep into my heart. Then he continued. "I am thankful for a lot that you do, Mom. You buy me food that I like, you put money in my lunch account at school. You cook awesome meals. I know I don't seem very appreciative, but I am."
And that's when my little boy peeked out of the teenage shell. But it gets better.
"So who did you write a letter to?" I asked.
"Ladybug. I thanked her for being my crazy little sister."
How awesome is that?
Every once in a while, there's a little ray of sunshine that gives me hope.