They really do need us, don't they?

This week my son had his first middle school football scrimmage. He has already played a season of tackle, and has been practicing with this older team for the past three weeks. And despite being pretty small for his age he loves hitting and getting hit. Heck, in flag football practice a couple of years ago he got mowed over by none other than Neal Anderson; poor Neal turned around in a panic to help him, only to see Dan pop up and say, "That was AWESOME!"

But as we sat on the bleachers waiting for the scrimmage to start, my athletic, fearless son looked at me and said, "Mom, I'm a little scared."

It's funny, I've never heard him say that. Not before his first tackle game last fall, not before he performed in a talent show three years ago. I've heard him say he was nervous, or excited... but never scared. So we talked a little, and I reminded him that once he starts playing it'll be just like it was last fall. And sure enough, he came to me later and told me that the fear disappeared after the first snap of the ball.

But it reminds me that history repeats itself with our kids. We always hear about how when they're toddlers, they want their independence and yet they need us so much. But I don't think this paradox is limited to toddlerhood. I remember being a teenager -a typical moody, fiercely independent teenager - coming home after school to an empty house... and the first thing I wanted to do was call my mom or dad. I didn't think I needed them, but that over-the-phone security blanket was just too cozy to resist.

I see it today in both of the kids. When I drop them off at school Dan makes me kiss him goodbye behind our car so his buddies don't see, only to surreptitiously wave at me again and again as I drive away. Erin wants me out of the room when she and her friends are hanging out, but she's the first to snuggle up with me when it's bedtime.

This is one of the reasons that I don't cry when I think about them growing up. History repeats itself with them.