Carter is coming up on ten. Double digits. He is convinced that his departure from single digit childishness will usher him into double digit glory. He’s already gearing up for the transformation.

The other night I went into his room to say prayers with him, something we have done for, well, almost ten years. He looked at me and said, “Mom, don’t you think that, since I’m almost double digits, it’s time for me to start saying my prayers by myself?”

“No!” I thought. “Of course not! You are my baby! You are not allowed to grow up and say your prayers all by yourself!”

What I actually said was more along the lines of, “Baby, you are growing up and I’m proud of you. Of course you can say your prayers all by yourself. I hope you always will. And remember that I am always saying prayers for you too.”

“You’re not going to cry are you,” he asked. “Because you always cry about stuff like this.”

“No, I’m not going to cry,” I said. “Love you. Good night.”

And then I went to my room and, well …  you know.