When he was seven, he said he wanted to be a policeman. I patted his head and said, "that's nice, sweetie." (The following week, he decided he wanted to be a hair dresser).
Then in 9th grade he developed his plan to join the military, be a military police officer, then go to college and study criminal justice.
Monday, we're meeting with a Navy recruiter.
Holy cow! I remember him standing in the corner, 3 feet of arms-crossed defiance, refusing to behave no matter how long I made him stand there. It seems like just yesterday, he was arguing about wanting blue hair and baggy pants, and he had to look up to look me in the eye.
Then, today, I'm looking at the package prices for his his cap and gown and graduation announcements. On the form I filled out, it says he's 5'11", and 190 pounds.
But this is how I'll probably always see him.
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