Last month, my family visited the King Tut: Treasures of the Golden Pharaoh exhibit at the California Science Center. While we marveled at the artifacts (many of which have never left Egypt before), my ten-year-old son, Ryan, kept focusing on King Tut’s young age when he became ruler of Egypt. King Tut was only nine years old, earning him the nickname “Boy King.”
We joked with my ten-year-old son that he was a year behind. Actually, I think Ryan is a great mix of innocent, little boy and mature, young man. But in many ways, I fear that my illness has somewhat colored his childhood, prompting him to have experiences and knowledge I didn’t have when I was his age (and younger).
Because Ryan only knows me as I am now — a mommy who has an illness, whose legs often hurt, who takes a lot of medicines, and who sees the doctor fairly regularly.