Parenting
So Here We Are at Age 10 (And I’m Not Quite Ready for It to End)
by Emily Carter
Updated: July 23, 2018
Originally Published: Oct. 5, 2017
Ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes. That’s how long my son has been part of this world. How is that even possible? I won’t exaggerate and say it feels like “just yesterday” because it doesn’t—it feels like a lifetime. Yet, it’s astonishing to realize that my journey as a mother has spanned over a decade, and we’re already past the halfway mark of this fleeting, beautiful phase called “childhood.”
Lately, I find myself gazing at my son, trying to catch a glimpse of the little boy he used to be. Where has that child gone? His chubby cheeks have disappeared, his almond-shaped eyes are more rounded, and even his long, shaggy hair has been replaced with a neat haircut. My little boy is evolving into a different person, and I can’t help but feel that these changes will only accelerate in the coming years.
Parenting often brings unexpected surprises—not just because it’s more challenging, fulfilling, and complex than I ever imagined, but also because time behaves in strange ways. It twists, bends, and sometimes seems to leap forward, making it feel as though years have vanished in an instant while certain days stretch on forever. The milestones I anticipated—like learning to walk or starting kindergarten—have become mere echoes in the daily rhythm of life.
It’s those unremarkable Tuesday evenings, the car rides after school, and spontaneous kitchen dance parties that leave lasting impressions. And so, ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes feels monumental.
When my son turned 10—entering double digits—we celebrated with a modest party and a few friends, singing “Happy Birthday” more times than I can count. Yet, there were no tears or reflections on the swift passage of time. But now, at this moment—10 years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes—I can’t help but wonder: Is this truly the pinnacle of childhood? Or worse, is this the beginning of the end?
I’m grappling with some profound emotions. I’m not one to long for the baby years or rush into the next stage of life. I genuinely believe that the best moments are those we’re currently experiencing—whether it’s the baby stage, toddler antics, or this delightful “sweet spot.” Even the challenging “threeager” phase holds a special place in my heart. I don’t subscribe to the idea that “little kids mean little problems; big kids mean big problems.” Every stage has its difficulties and joys, and I’m sure I’ll love and loathe the teenage years just as I did the newborn phase.
But…Ten. TEN. Ten years, 11 months, 15 days, and 28 minutes, to be precise. Sigh…
This feels like a significant turning point. If I blink or look away for too long, childhood may fade into the past like a rainbow in the rearview mirror, rather than the foggy path we often navigate. Ten is a balance—one foot still in childhood and the other inching toward adolescence and, eventually, adulthood.
Ten is about sports, video games, and drawing animals. It’s wearing baseball cleats and dealing with the ups and downs of the game—making a catch in the outfield but also facing disappointment after a strikeout. Ten includes slammed doors followed by tearful reconciliations, deep discussions about life’s big questions, and the desire to understand the world more fully.
Ten means enjoying family movie nights, discovering new music, and occasionally throwing in a few comical “yo’ mama” jokes. It’s about learning sarcasm and navigating the chaos of fidget spinners and bottle flipping. Ten is also the sweetness of handmade cards for Mother’s Day and comforting a friend in distress.
At ten, mornings still start with cozy snuggles in bed, but now it’s SportsCenter that fills the air instead of cartoons. It’s the scent of worn T-shirts and the constant reminders to shower. It’s leaning in for hugs in public but shying away from hand-holding, with bedtime hugs varying from long embraces to quick waves.
Ten means being home alone for short periods, walking to the store for treats, and occasionally forgetting homework but remembering to prepare for a spelling test. It’s rolling eyes at romantic scenes in movies, wanting to watch thrillers but covering eyes during the scary parts. It’s rapid growth, both physically and emotionally; feet that seem to grow overnight and a forehead resting comfortably on my shoulder.
Ten embodies both little and big moments. And yes, I believe that ten is indeed the last best age of childhood.
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In summary, reaching the milestone of ten years evokes a mix of nostalgia and anticipation for what lies ahead. Each moment, whether mundane or monumental, weaves together the rich tapestry of childhood that I cherish and hold dear.