Amy's Neck of the Woods: You blink and....

I'm about to be an almost-empty-nester. I swear it was yesterday that we were renting a tux for eighth grade graduation! It's so cliche' to say that time flies, but it truthfully does. Let's recap.

Robbie was born in 1996, my firstborn. He was the perfect baby. He didn't fuss much. He could sleep anywhere. He had beautiful, big brown eyes. He was a blessing.

We let him have his bottle whenever he wanted, which resulted in what is called "bottle rot" of his upper front four teeth. At age two, he had those teeth surgically removed. We felt like horrible parents, but he took it all in stride. The little false teeth they made for him wouldn't adhere, so he would spend the next seven years or more without front teeth. This just made him even more adorable than he already was. He talked with a strong country accent and a little lisp from the missing teeth.

We were certain he'd be scared to death to start preschool. He was pretty shy around strangers. We were wrong. We took him to school that first day, and he jumped in with both feet. When told to get ready to go to breakfast, he announced to the teacher that he was full of "dah dogs" aka hot dogs. Now, we hadn't fed him hot dogs for breakfast, but he had eaten hot dogs the night before. We got a chuckle from it and followed him to the cafeteria, where he told us to leave. Ha! Didn't see that one coming.

We moved a couple of times between preschool and first grade, but Robbie always adjusted easily and did well wherever we went. We came back home for good during his first grade year. He blended right back in with his friends and never looked back. He was always one of the top students, and we always heard nothing but praise from his teachers. He did well in sports, too. It seems like everything he does comes easily to him.

Before we knew it, he had his first four-wheeler, his first cell phone, his first girlfriend...in that order. Elementary faded quickly to middle school, and middle school was gone before it began.

High school started, and we learned just what it meant to run around after your kids and their activities. Countless basketball and baseball games dotted our calendars. We didn't miss much of anything if we could help it. Athletics brought with it numerous injuries and a whole new kind of stress with watching your child play ball. Sprains, stitches, and even one broken bone and surgery.

I remember well the first morning I watched him drive off to school with his little brother as precious cargo. I didn't think I'd ever survive the worry that came along with such responsibility, but I did.

Suddenly, it was time to think about Junior and Senior proms. What?! How did that happen? I don't know, but it happened. Senior pictures, last basketball game, last baseball game, last sports banquet, last FFA banquet, last, last, last... it all comes barreling at you without time to digest it all. Then, it's over.

He's eighteen. He's out of high school. He's out of technical college. He's off into the big scary world. Tomorrow, he will drive a thousand miles to his first grown-up job, and the whole of it all seems like it went as fast as my writing of it. Don't blink. You don't want to miss a minute of it.