Missing

Two years ago, just like any mother in the world with a motor mouth kid, I had wanted to cut the apron string.

I wanted him to be independent (read: wipe his own ass).

I was scared that he would turn up to be "mummy's boy."

Thus, I snipped snipped snipped the string away. A little by little. First by sending him to school.

I remember sending him to school, wanting so much that he'd just climb down the car on his own, instead of holding his hand, waving good bye a hundred times, and kissing him just as many times. Not that I hated it...it was just that there were times that I'd rather drive, drop, go.

You know what...my wish came true. I now drive, drop, go everyday. Not even a chance to kiss and hug. Heh, try that and the car behind will honk you for stalling the traffic queue for 3 seconds.

Anyways, I didn't care the other day. He had clambered down with his heavy bag. I honked. He turned around. I blew him a kiss.

He frowned a little. Put his hand on his hips, as if annoyed. And a smile crept in.

I wonder if he misses me as much as I do, him.

I miss doing stuff with him. Just the two of us.

But he doesn't wanna watch kungfu panda 2 with me. He doesn't want transformers 3 either. Neither does he want to jalan jalan aimlessly at the mall with me.

Is that what growing up, for a boy means?

Have I lost those kisses on the lips forever?

Where have all the silly banters gone?

I miss you, son. But if that's how boys grow to become men... I'll just have to let you go.