Eli.

A few weeks ago, I was both humbled and disturbed when I had to drop my first little boy off at the door of high school.

He was absolutely thrilled to begin this new chapter. There was no anticipation on his part. Only excitement. But me? Well, of course, that is a different story.

I have known from day one that this child is special. He spoke early - by the time he turned one, he was speaking in sentences. His favorite movie was "The Lion King." He was able to name every animal before they ran across the screen in the opening credits. He potty trained at nineteen months. He could tell about the gravitational pull of the moon by time he was three. He swam well by four. He was reading well by time he turned five.

When Eli went to school, he went full force. School was so easy for him that he stayed in trouble. He shared his mischievousness by stuffing his pants pockets full of Pokemon cards - over 100, in fact. He got caught. In the cafeteria, he took the challenge of another boy and bent a spoon. That spoon - still in his box in the top of my closet - cost us 52 cents. One day, he told the teacher that I put special powder in his food to make him sleep at bedtime when he complained night after night of ninjas breaking into his windows and trying to "get" him. By first grade, during a fit on the playground, he threatened to burn the world down. We got a call to come to the school where we were met by the school psychologist, the principal, and a matronly spinster type teacher who thought we had a problem child on our hands. We did not, I insisted. He was just active, with an extremely active imagination. He needed a challenge.

Third grade brought more teacher/parent/student drama. Fourth grade brought a variety of discipline to get his attention. Surely he could sit down to do his work; Both Dave and I knew that all he needed were some challenges in class. Fifth and sixth grade brought about the same kind of problems. Seventh grade - whew. Seventh grade. That is when his hormones hit - Eli gained about six inches in height, thirty pounds, and a on/off like a lightswitch pissy attitude that carried on until the end of grade eight. Somewhere in the middle of grade eight, a teacher promised us that Eli's eccentricity would plane out soon. We waited patiently for him to have to sit down and pay attention and study to learn. My mother heart was sympathetic to what went on in his head. Here was a child, my child, who caused me great joy along with great drama. He was always so pleasent to be around, so full of ideas and stories and action. I knew they just didn't really understand. When I looked at this little-big boy-man, I saw my baby. And I still do.

Finally - Eli's high school career began on August 10th.

On that Tuesday morning, I silently watched this striking young man get ready for his first day of high school. Pleasent, planed out, ready for challenges. Eli was placed in all honors classes. He is handsome, articulate, well read. He has goals for his life. He knows what he wants. He has taken charge. I couldn't be more proud of him.

As I got ready to pull up to the front drive, Eli told me I could stop, to just let him out at the sidewalk. So I did. When he got out of the van, he gave me a dismissal with the fling of his bangs. He gave me a quick "See ya, Mom." And off he went, with his hands up in the air, letting everyone know he had arrived. And he has.

Today, I got a text from Eli. All it said was "Can you come to school and sign some papers for me." And so I went, right then, to see what he had done. Did he loose his phone already? Was he being sent to alternative school? In School Suspension?

When I got to the school, he was in the lunch room eating. He "swaggered" up to me (he told me just last night that he has a "swagger") and handed me the papers to sign. My sweet baby is running for class president. He showed me all the signatures that he had already gotten; he knew that he had the support. I asked him what he had to do; a teacher told me he had to advertise and give a speech, to which he replied something about better lunches. The teacher suggested that we use, 'Vote Eli. All Your Dreams Will Come True."

If she only knew how right she was.

How blessed I am to have been picked to be this child's mother. While I am excited to watch him grow and mature over the next four years, I also have a sense of dread because I know that in four years, he will start another chapter. I have the desire to hold on tight to this kid, to not let him go, to keep him forever. I know this is not realistic. So, for now, I am going to work at spending more time with him, enjoying his personality, building him up.