KEY POINTS:
Today the Z-Man quite sternly directed me to put both hands on the steering wheel and berated me all the way down the drive for not putting my seat belt on quickly enough.
I had to bite the words back defending my driving as I looked at the
angelic three year old in the rear view mirror, who seemed to suddenly be channelling my father.
When did my son become the parent in our relationship? It seems like he is three going on fifty.
He is constantly telling me to be careful and often asks me if I've had enough to eat. Hmmm. Is he just parroting me, or is he really an elderly man trapped in a very cute toddler body?
Many people have told me that my son has an old soul. He has always talked (for as long as I can remember). No not baby talk, full conversations.
We wax lyrical about books we've read, movies we've watched, the way a butterfly's wings look with the sun shining through them and why clouds turn yellow in the late afternoon.
He's like a great date that never ends.
So when did my little boy stop needing to be told and started needing to tell?
Was there one definable moment where my baby became a grown-up? Did I miss it?
Is it worse than I thought, are kids these days throwing off the shackles of their childhood and becoming self sufficient before they even reach school age?
I wonder, does he still need me?
Okay I'm being ridiculous, but it's certainly food for thought.
Our children are brighter, more sensitive and more aware than we ever were at their age.
They are like little sponges and they absorb absolutely everything (from the expletive uttered under my breath when the garage door fell on the car, to the Kenny Roger's tune that I just can't get out of my head - an infant singing The Gambler is certainly something to see).
Fast forward to today's corrective car safety procedures as cleverly demonstrated by Z.
There is of course the other rule of thought (my personal favourite), that our offspring will always need us.
Gotta say, I'm permanently up for a cuddle and I never say no to modelling another of his insane dress up outfits.
I'd say this definitely keeps me in the running and pushes back my use-by date for a bit longer.
I'm sure there is more that I can teach my son (I know the words to at least a hundred other bad taste songs) and I know that he will carry my love with him forever.
I will live on in every warning he gives his own children, in his incredibly eclectic taste in music and in the wonderful way that he will treat his future wife. My son? A job well done I'd say.
PS: Last week Z tripped on some play equipment and not only did his teeth go through his lip, but a nail punctured his chin.
Covered in blood and sporting three stitches, my little pumpkin turned to me and said "Mummy I tripped on the girl's feet, I should have looked where I was going, shouldn't I?" There it was again - another lesson learnt.
We are also fond of "Don't run with scissors" and "Please cover your mouth when sneezing".
My little back seat driver is certainly teaching me life's lessons, it's just lucky I was there to kiss it better and be the parent. For a little while longer at least.
Tina Shaw is publisher of the online magazine for solo parents The Single Parent Bible and the director of the Single Parents in Business network. She writes for APN publications in New Zealand and Australia
