We did the unthinkable, particularly when you’ve got a big family like us – we went out to eat. (I know, you’re sitting there, jaw wide open “OMGZ LISA!” but it’s okay, because we’ve got it under control. Or maybe we just took a lot of Xanax or something before going out. Kidding. Maybe.)
Anyways, so there we were, at this new awesome chinese buffet, seated at the table for 20, because we appear to have so many, they overseat us at some elephant-sized table or something, but I digress. The waitress asked us for our drink order. We run down the list, no problem whatsoever, and proceed to break into two groups (as we always do), where some stay behind, some go on ahead to fix their plates, and we switch. I stay behind (I usually do at first). It was then I noticed it.
The waitress.
She brought back the drinks.
She gave my three oldest big kid cups. (As in, they drank from the same cup as I was about to)
Now my oldest will be 14 this month (OMfrigginGAW fourteen! I just felt more gray hair sprout), so that’s understandable, since we paid for her meal as an adult. But my two nine-year-olds? They both got an adult cup, too. What the heck? Since when!?! Where’s the kid-safe sippy cup with a lid? Doesn’t she know how clutzy my sweet, adorable, nine-year-old is?
I look over at my husband, children frolicking alongside him, as he juggles multiple plates back from the buffet, peering at me as though he could stab me with a chop stick. “Babe? Do you see their cups?”
He huffs a bit, putting down their teriyaki chicken nuggets and rice, corn, nugget-y things long enough to look at the table and grumble a little response back. “So?”
“So?! They have big cups. Like, big like us. They’re not big. Why not the spill proof cups…”
And before I finish, he responds before returning to the buffet beckoning him “Babe, they’ve had those cups for a while, now.”
And he leaves. Just like that. Like it’s no big deal. NO BIG DEAL! IS HE SERIOUS?!
I look back at my kids, now munching on chicken, rice, corn somethin’-or-others, happy, smiling, trying not to poke themselves in the eyes or anyone else with chopsticks.. and sipping from adult-sized cups like big kids do.
It’s then that it hits me. My youngest just turned 10-months-old. My daughter just celebrated her ninth birthday. My son? He’ll be ten in December. My toddler is officially two-and-a-half. My five-year-old starts kindergarten in a couple weeks (OMGOSH MORE GRAY HAIR).
They’re growing up, and just like that, it’s first words to adult sized cups. And this momma just isn’t ready.
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