And then he walked out as a big, handsome boy.
As we stood outside the salon so I could go snap happy (what else is new?), he asked if we could get ice cream. Chocolate, with sprinkles. He may as well have just asked if he could have the car keys and drive home. We walked down to the frozen yogurt parlor next to the salon. It was closed. I anticipated a tantrum, a lay-on-the-floor-and-scream-at-everything fit. Instead, I got an "It's okay, mommy. There will be other times to get ice cream. We'll get chocolate with sprinkles next time." I just stood and stared at the teenager standing in front of me.
And then a "my legs are getting tired. Can you carry me to the car?" which came at just the right time. I think he knew I wanted it the way he wanted chocolate with sprinkles.