Today's blog was supposed to be part two of our most excellent Memorial Day weekend but then last night, Dallas and I were given a very important bit of information.
Now I know that there are going to be those of you that view our news with a shrug wondering why in the world we are making such a big deal of it. It's perfectly normal and we should have expected something like this.
And your sentiments will be correct but it doesn't change the fact that I am GOBSMACKED.
Last night, over dinner, and as casually as if he were talking about driving over to the local supermarket for milk, man-child announced that he had secured an apartment and would be moving out the first of July.
WHAT? WHEN?!
It's not like we didn't know that he was out there looking. The passenger seat of his car had, in recent weeks, been littered with apartment brochures. We openly encouraged him to start exploring his housing options since he wouldn't be moving with us to Florida. A few weeks ago, he invited us to come and look at a one bedroom that he liked. We were pleased with his choice since it was economical, clean and offered many amenities that would be meaningful for man-child. The only trouble was that management had nothing available in the near future and the best they could offer was to take his deposit and place him on the waiting list. So we didn't give it another thought because in our minds, the boy wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. We were quite content that he had been motivated enough to get out there and dabble into the world of adult responsibilities.
Baby steps.
Progress.
Except an opening did happen and now, that baby bird is going to hop out on the ledge of the nest, spread his wings and try to freaking fly.
Every fiber of my being wants to run underneath, with arms outstretched, to catch him if he falls.
I'm not sure he's ready.
Actually, it's me. I'm not sure I'm ready.
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