The goal of parenting is to raise our children well enough so that someday they won’t even need us. In other words, to render ourselves useless. Holding my son today, rocking him in our rocking chair, like a live little teddy bear, I couldn’t help but think, “Why?” Why does that have to be my goal? Why can’t my goal be to suppress his growth hormones and perpetually keep my little baby just that: my little baby. Then I’d always have a little munchkin to hold on to 🙂 Isn’t there something I could do to keep my baby my baby- cute as the cutest little button, unable to talk back to me yet, at least in real words.
I suppose since that’d be disregarding not only the purpose of life, but also every ethical and moral responsibility we humans have, that every research possibility in the area of curbing a baby’s growth hormones will be squelched. So I suppose that means I’ll have to keep doing my best with raising him, teaching him everything I want him to know so he won’t endure the struggles his father and I did; so I can watch him grow and develop in all the stages he needs to go through and learn to talk, read, and write, and play the piano and catch with daddy; so he can go through school, learn even more about the world, and contribute to the goodness of this world. And maybe someday he’ll meet a nice young woman, and they’ll eventually settle down, and give me a grandbaby- that I’ll inevitably want to keep a baby forever! Oh no, the cycle never ends!
God willing, my son will grow into a competent man I’m proud of, so maybe the alternative of letting him grow isn’t so bad. It’s just difficult for us doting parents to think about. It must be a great feeling of accomplishment for those of you with grown children that you’re proud of- you did that! Congrats!