Teeteewhyel

Right before we hung up on the phone together, Oldest said, "Okay then, Teeteewhyel!"

My eyebrows arched. I amost stopped breathing. Was this a moment where I had totally lost touch with my son? Where words no longer had meaning? Where my brain had stopped working?

"Yeah, right."  Something in my brain clicked. I should know what that word meant.  Teeteewhyel. Sure. I've heard it before.  But for some reason I didn't know it. And even though I could have called him right back and asked, I paused, uncertain if I could handle him knowing that I couldn't figure out something he said.

You see, we just got back from a Florida trip.  While traipsing around Disneyworld, I found that everything on me hurt, especially three painful blisters under my feet and my hips.  I couldn't walk as fast as he could. He's only fifteen, healthy and strong.  What must it be like to charge forward, only to have to stop and see your little mother coming along at an almost snail's pace (comparatively) and have to wait?

To his credit, he never once complained. Not one word of unkindness. Just so you know, griping is what he likes to do best. I wasn't short of breath or anything. I just hurt. But I had to admit that I was holding him back, slowing him down. And if you don't think that hurts, well, think again.

I felt rather badly about it, until my hubby asked him to slow up on their walk around town the other night.  "Son," said The Man Who Puts Up With Me.  "You might not remember how slow I walked for you when you were only this tall," and he held his hand down by his knee, " and holding on to my pinkie. But maybe you can slow up for me now."

We are not old. Just that he's so young. That's what I keep telling myself. Maybe the body simply can't move so quickly with a brain carrying so much wisdom.  There, that's a better excuse. But his knees aren't ruined from racquetball and hiking, and other wear-and-tear activities. He isn't missing an organ or two, hasn't had implants. Nope, he just floats along like we used to when we were his age: carefree and fast.

So tonight when he used a word that I had never heard, I hesitated asking just because I felt once again like I was slowing him down. In the back of my mind, I figured the word would be more easily explained by the eleven-year-old sitting next to me in the car.

"Teeteewhyl." I said, chewing the word over carefully in my mouth as I said it.

"Yeah!" said Youngest. "Talk to you later!"

Now that's just not fair!