Growing up

Got ready. Washed my face.
Still half asleep I started to make breakfast
"Z wake up. Breakfast!!" I shouted through a yawn.
I grab a tea bag, fill up a mug with hot water and pour in the soya milk. I hear Z moving around in his room. "Z hurry up will you" I shout knowing all to well that he's going to take his time to appear.

Tables set and I catch Z shuffle past the door from the corner of my eye. "Remember to wash your hands and face" I order. Damn why do I keep doing that I question myself. Just realx I say - he knows the routine. My running commentaries have been a part of his life ever since he started to communicate verbally so why stop now :)

The tables set and I'm staring out the kitchen window while I sip my tea and try to plan my day.
"Whats for breakfast mamma?" Z aks as he opens the fridge door. A signal to me that he doesn't like the food on the kitchen table. "Z please just eat whats on the table" I say exasperated by his yo-yoing tastebuds. My eyes catches a cat watching a bird in a tree - ready to pounce when least expected. "But I hate that food!" Z protests.

I turn round ready to give the usual global guilt-trips: what about all the starving kids in the world - don't you think they would enjoy this breakfast. Suddenly I see Z filling the whole of the doorway by the fridge.

"What happened to you?" I ask horrified.
Infront of me is no longer my little boy but a teenager who is almost as tall as me now.
I grab him by the arm and drag him to his room. "Mamma what did I do?" Z asks confused.
"What did you do?" I ask. "What did you do! You grew up in the middle of the night without my permission thats what! Now go back in to your room and don't you ever do that again!" I command struggling to fight back my laughter, joy and also fear of loosing this little boy to the sharks in the world.

He bursts out laughing and I immediately tickle him under his arm.
"So you think you can grow without my permission do you - eh?" I ask as I tickle him.
He squirms trying to clench his arms closer to his body. He finally drops to the floor in fits of laughter "YES " he squeals through his giggles.

I stop the tickle-torture and ruffle his hair. Z's 13 year old energetic lungs gasp for air through the laughter. I kiss his forehead and say a silent prayer asking Allah to take care of him, protect him for all that I cannot. Z sighs and gets up. He gives me his hand to pull me up off the floor too and I'm aware of the roles slowly changing.

"Come on lets have breakfast" I say knowing all too well that one day I will be having breakfast alone.