This morning Primo buttoned his own shirt. And I took a picture of it because I was so proud. My baby’s all grown up. Would you believe that I teared up? It’s true. When it comes to kids -- oh hell, when it comes to anything -- I am so wildly sentimental it’s a damn liability.
But it’s also a genetic thing. I’ve only ever seen my mother cry for real a handful of times in my life, but sit her down in front of a Lifetime movie and she’s like a faucet. You’d think Meredith Baxter-Burney was her best friend. My aunt’s the same. I used to walk by the living room when I was living with her and find her inconsolable on the couch. Then I’d hear the end of Steel Magnolias playing on the TV.
I think I hit a nadir when I went to see Last of the Mohicans. I was actually asked to pipe down by a fellow theater-goer. My crying was disturbing his viewing experience.
“Stay alive!!!!! Whatever else occurs, I will find you!”
Gets me kind of choked up even now.
Anyway, congrats to my guy on his mastery of the button. What’s next? Pre-cal? Asking to borrow the car? Oh Lord, I need a hanky.
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