Ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes. That’s how long my son, Ethan, has been part of our world. Can you believe it? It feels surreal. I won’t exaggerate and claim it was “just yesterday,” because, honestly, it doesn’t feel that way at all. It feels like a significant amount of time has passed. Yet, I can’t fathom that I’ve been a mom for over a decade, and we’re already more than halfway through this beautiful yet fleeting chapter called “childhood.”
Lately, I find myself gazing at Ethan, searching for traces of the little boy he once was. Where did that child disappear to? His chubby cheeks are now gone, his once-almond-shaped eyes have rounded, and even his long, shaggy hair has been replaced with a neat cut. My little boy is evolving into someone new, and I’m acutely aware that these transformations will only pick up speed in the coming years.
Parenting is full of unexpected moments—it’s not just more challenging, rewarding, and enriching than anticipated; it’s also a reminder that time is anything but linear. It seems to twist and turn, making it feel as though whole years have vanished while some days stretch on forever. The milestones I thought would be monumental—taking first steps, starting school, losing that first tooth—quickly fade into the background of everyday life.
It’s the ordinary moments—a random Tuesday evening, a midweek carpool, spontaneous dance parties in the kitchen—that linger in our memories. And so, this peculiar time of 10 years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes feels especially significant.
When Ethan hit the big 10—double digits—we celebrated with our usual festivities but didn’t feel overly sentimental. We threw a small gathering with a handful of friends and sang “Happy Birthday” multiple times, but there were no tears or worries about the passage of time.
Now, at 10 years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes, I’m left pondering: Is this the pinnacle of childhood? Or worse, is this the beginning of the end? I’m grappling with some deep emotions about this.
I’m not someone who longs for the baby years or rushes toward the next phase. I genuinely believe that every stage holds its own beauty—whether it’s the infant days, toddler tantrums, or this “sweet spot” we’re in now. Even the chaotic years of toddlerhood have a charm that I appreciate. I know the teen years will be a mix of love and frustration, just as I experienced with the newborn phase.
But… Ten. TEN. Ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes to be precise.
Sigh… This feels like a defining moment. If I blink or turn my head for just a moment, I fear that childhood will vanish before my eyes, becoming a mere memory in the rearview mirror instead of the fog we often feel like we’re navigating. At 10, Ethan stands with one foot firmly planted in childhood while the other hesitantly tiptoes into the preteen realm and eventually into young adulthood.
Ten is sports and video games, creative drawings of animals, baseball cleats, and the thrill of diving for a catch—along with the tears that follow after striking out. It’s slammed bedroom doors followed by heartfelt apologies; it’s deep discussions about life’s big questions like God and social issues, where he’s eager to share his own thoughts.
Ten is about enjoying movies like Moana and Star Wars while belting out tunes from Imagine Dragons, albeit with a few lyrics hilariously incorrect. It’s the occasional use of inappropriate jokes and the newfound understanding of sarcasm. Ten is a wild mix of noise and chaos, but also sweet moments like handmade cards for Mother’s Day and comforting a friend in tears.
Ethan still crawls into bed for morning snuggles, but instead of cartoons, it’s SportsCenter on the screen. Ten brings with it the aroma of sweaty shirts and the constant reminders to take a shower. He craves hugs in public yet avoids hand-holding. Some nights, he’s in for a long hug at bedtime; other nights, there’s just a quick wave.
Ten means short bursts of being home alone, walking to the corner store for candy, and occasionally forgetting homework but remembering to prepare for a spelling test. It’s eye rolls at romantic scenes in action flicks, wanting to watch scary movies but covering his eyes through the scary parts. Ten brings feet that grow two sizes in mere months and a forehead that fits snugly in the crook of my neck.
Ten is both little and big.
And yes, 10 truly is the last best age of childhood.
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In summary, reaching the age of ten feels significant as it marks a transition in childhood, where the innocence of youth begins to blend with the complexities of growing up.