Hope

A few years ago, I posted about my then-eleven year old son.  I thought maybe he would never learn how to glue himself together every day.

Fast forward a few years.  He will be 14 in a couple of weeks.  He takes a shower every day.  He uses shampoo and soap.  He puts on deodorant.  He even wears clean underwear.  

In the past 24 hours, he has asked for a haircut and requested ironing lessons.

This was Christmas morning, so he was a bit disheveled which opposes the point of this post.
Nice smile, though.  :)

So, for you mothers of wrinkled, crazy-haired eleven year olds out there, here is your dose of hope.  

In a few short years, he will smell good and look nice.

And your heart will break just a little bit.