My middle child turned twelve yesterday. Twelve. Nearly a teenager. But not yet.
He will still hold my hand. He will still hug me. He will still say he loves me. Even in public. I guess I should make the most of it before the hormones kick in!
I love this age. In fact the whole tween bit is ace. He is such good company – clever, interesting. He is undemanding and thoughtful.
He is hard on himself sometimes – while very bright, organisation doesn’t come easy to him and he can be overly down on himself if something gets forgotten.
I remind him that nobody is perfect at everything and that now he knows what he needs to work on he can hopefully find some strategies to improve his skills. Equally I remind him of all the things he excels at and just how lovely he is. And when he is too tough on himself I tell him off, saying I wouldn’t let anyone else speak about him like that, so I am certainly not going to let him speak about himself so negatively either.
He writes beautifully – poems, stories, even novels. He made me a poetry collection for my birthday and I will always treasure it.
He is a games master, a huge Nintendo fan. He creates his own games on scratch, draws brilliant gaming art and writes adventure books around his favourite characters. He even has a comic strip that he creates new editions of to share with his mates.
He is a smashing kid and I love him to bits.
Happy Birthday Max xxx