This post caught my eye on the sidebar this morning, and I got a little choked up. We don't know where At's friend R is or how he is.
And my own At--the champion of cuddles and calm, sometime spotter of grocery cash, constant companion--is now 16.
Sixteen. Still a champion and companion, but a grown up one. One who has plans to go away for college (no more: 'I'm going to live in the basement'), a critical thinker who questions my social justice outrage (more: 'is that the best way to convince people?'), still somewhat wiser than his years (A lot of: 'Jesus, Mom! I told you not to engage in arguments with hate groups!').
And clearly more comfortable with swearing--and every aspect of himself--every day.
I am so incredibly proud.
And so unready.