This is my Beckham. I only recently decided he looks like me.
He is our first born. The one we made all of the mistakes on. The one we fell in love with first and knew we had never loved someone so much. He just turned 11 years old. (p.s. Beckham is in the belly. Sadly someone stole all the photos of his first two months of life.)
Beckham is and always has been a brilliant, imaginative, particular, funny boy. Yes he has multiple binkies in his mouth. He could count to ten before he was two. He could say his alphabet backwards faster than any adult who challenged him at the age of three. He wrote his first book about dinosaurs in kindergarten. He has told me stories since he could talk, my favorites were about his friend the moon. Beckham has the greatest knowledge and love for animals I have ever seen. He wants to be a Zoologist when he grows up.
Beckham is the oldest 11 year old I have ever met (besides my 11 year old self). He is the protector of our family. He can't help it. Sometimes I worry he will explode because he worries about all of us so much. At my lowest of times, I truly feel like he is more mature than me. However, he also has a silly fun side and if his brothers catch him in a good mood he shows them just how fun he can be. I love when we get some one on one time because he will talk my ear off. I hope that never changes.
I caught a snapshot of him with his friends and he was just so cute and relaxed and happy. He looked like the near teen he is instead of my little boy.
Turning 11 comes with a lot of growing up. Each year seems to bring more of that. This year was his last Pine Wood derby. He is now a boy scout instead of a cute little cub. He is approaching his last year of elementary school. It is his last year of Primary. Last week he unwillingly sang in his last Primary program.
Now here is the part for mature eyes only . . . This was last Christmas and sadly this is my only picture of his last Christmas believing in Santa Clause ( my excuse I was pregnant, sick and exhausted. Not a very good on I know).
All last year he asked me if I believed in Santa Clause and of course I said yes because I do. Tonight as I asked the boys what they wanted for Christmas and he started again, but asked in a different way, "are you Santa Mom?" I don't like to lie to my kids and I know some people think that is what Santa is, but for me he is a symbol. So, I tried to use my standard reply, "what do you think?" This time he was not having it. I told him he could text me instead as all the little brothers were with us. After much bullying, I mean prodding, from Beckham I finally gave in. Ugh, my little big boy is growing up. One more piece of innocence gone. A little less magic left in his childhood. (I had to give him the birds and the bees talk this year too, and this was way harder!) Here was my answer, (as I texted him tears streaming down my face.)
"Yes I am Santa and it makes me sad that you are so big. Because the magic of Santa is so amazing and wonderful that I hope you keep believing forever. I hope you never tell anyone that there isn't a Santa because there is. He is the magic, the wonder, and the joy of Christmas. He is the spirit of giving just as Jesus was born and given to us so that we can become who Heavenly Father wants us to be. So never stop believing because Santa is real. I just put the toys under the tree. I love you buddy, wish I could keep you little for forever. Now you get to help make the magic. p.s. Me and Dad are Santa, not just me."
Beckham's reaction, (tears in his eyes) "My world is now broken."
I can't remember how I lost all of the magic in my childhood. I only remember being excited about helping my mom put the toys under the tree for my little brother and sisters. But as I let go of that piece of Beckham's childhood and as I watched him lose it at the same time, my heart broke a little. My first baby is getting too big.
I know that in the large scheme of things this is so trivial, but I don't think it is meaningless. Kids grow up way too fast and I have needed Beckham to grow up faster than I want as I rely on his help so much. It was painful for me to realize he is so big, he is 11, he is becoming a man a little more each day. But it hurt me so much more to watch as the innocence and the pain of that loss rolled down his sweet little cheeks.
Happy Birthday to my number one son. I hope the next few years slow down a little bit more, and I take the time to watch and listen before your childhood is gone.
