Dragons live forever, but not so little boys

I have three sons, 17, 15, and 10.  It seems like just yesterday that the 17 year old was in kindergarten.  My wife Lulu cried on his first day of kindergarten.  And I laughed it off because, after all, he’d be in kindergartenf for a full year.  Today I look at him and he’s nearly ready to go off to college, and my 15 year old is going to Driver's Ed and getting ready to drive.  Now I’m the one crying.

I still have one little bear. My ten year old and I are very close.   The reason is because I started my business ten years ago, and when you’re self-employed you can take random days off on a whim.  I took several afternoons off to take Wywy to a movie or to the ranch.  He’s a snuggler, so on many nights I would crash in his bed and we would talk about the day, or sharks, or the different types of zombies, or battleships.  Those days are drawing nigh, as he gets older and realizes that snuggling with your daddy isn’t cool anymore, if it ever was.

It brings to mind the song, Puff the Magic Dragon:  “A Dragon lives forever; but not so little boys.  Painted wings and giant's rings, make way for other toys.  One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more.  And Puff that mighty dragon suddenly ceased his fearless roar.  His head now bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain.  Puff no longer went to play, along that cheery lane.   Without his life-long friend, Puff could not be brave, so Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave.”

It’s true.  The little boys we knew suddenly, quite miraculously and with no notice, grow up.  We wake up one day to find our little boys all big and using deodorant and calling girls and going out.  This has proved too much for me to handle. The last time I bawled this much was the 2002 Budweiser ad commemorating 9/11.
The commentator Rich Galen wrote a great post on this, pointing out that there are two types of people in this world regarding children growing up:  those who get it and those who don’t.  I get it.  My baby bear is soon to be no more, and it just breaks my heart.  I’m so proud of the young men my boys have become, but I still dearly miss the little boys -- the ones who marveled at trains, airplanes, and helicopters; the ones who called hamburgers hangubers; the ones who will race into your arms for a hug after school -- those little boys are no more.  I can't go on -- my keyboard is wet.