Oh my. He's a person.

Last night while I did the dinner dishes, Jacob worked on his homework. The assignment was to illustrate and write Q words. Jake was surprisingly eager. "Quail! Does a quail have a feather coming out of its head?" Why, yes! That is a quail! How on earth did he know that? I certainly haven't been discussing quail lately. He drew a passable quail and I spelled it out for him to write. Onward with "quick" and "quill." He drew tiny people running and a plumey feather. I spelled. "Mom, how do you draw a quilt?" I made some suggestions. After a few minutes, I started to spell it. Jake interrupted me and said that he'd figure it out himself. Figure it out himself? What? He's going to spell "quilt?" That's a hard word! There's a q in it! I stood by the sink with a dripping plate in my hand and stared at the child. Then he turned with a grin slashed across his face. "Q-U-I-L-T!" I pasted a corresponding grin on my face and let go with a "That's right, Buddy!" But oh my. He knows what a quail is. He knows how to spell quilt. And I did not teach him these things. He has his own life and his own knowledge that is separate from my life and my knowledge. This child that I bore and birthed and fed and burped and rocked to sleep so many nights will go on to have a life outside of my realm of control. He won't be my little buddy forever. One day, and it really won't be that long of a wait, he will be a man. Yes, I know. The fact that children are people is hardly a newsflash. It's the miracle of procreation, blah, blah, blah. But every once in a while, the knowledge hits me like a pie in the face. This, this child of mine, is a person. A PERSON! What a miracle!