kiwords

Did you know Max recently turned 12? He did. All the boys have had their birthdays for this year, so Tre is now 15, Max is 12, and Raphael is 9. Sorry to keep y'all out of the loop, but I've been busy baking cakes.

Except not for Max, because he wanted root beer floats. Max is...essentially Max.

Did I mention he's twelve? It's a tough age, full of lots of figuring stuff out. He questions me a lot these days. I'm getting used to hearing his voice with that special tone that conveys doubt in my mental abilities.

"Really, Mom, if there's ALWAYS a sale at Kohl's, is there EVER a sale at Kohl's?"

"Did you KNOW that Sophia has your keys?"

"Shouldn't you use your turn signal when you turn?"

It gets old, sometimes, but I know that Max is twelve. And twelve has a lot of figuring out to do.

And he is figuring it out, becoming more of himself. For all the questioning of me he does, I cannot find any way to convince him that this shirt and these shorts are a bad combo. He just doesn't believe me.

I guess he does make it work.

And I guess that's my hope for him, too. That through all the chaos and upheaval of twelve, Max will stay, unafraid, on his very own path, and make it work.

Those are Sophia's jammies on his head. When I took that picture, I warned him I was going to put it on the blog. He shrugged and said "go ahead," and posed for another shot.

He's just so Max.