A bib. That’s all it is. A bib. Something every new parent has for their little ones. It catches slobber and drool and spit out food. We had lots of them when the kids were younger and in fact we still have one or two tucked in the back of the towel drawer for those rare occasions when someone comes to visit with a little one who needs a bib. Kind of like the booster chair we still have tucked in Ryan’s closet or the old books and Lincoln Logs I refuse to get rid of. But now we need them again, those bibs. It shouldn’t be a big deal really. So I have a kid who drools. A lot. Every day. But it is a big deal really. It is. And I can’t explain it and I feel like I shouldn’t be so upset about it. But I am. Sad, teary, painfully real. It’s just a bib but it’s so much more. It’s backtracking. Kids aren’t suppose to not need a bib then one day revert back to needing a bib again years later. But here we are. It’s not a big deal really in the big scheme of life but it’s a big deal in my heart. Because it is another physical sign of Ryan moving backwards. Of one more little slip. I don’t want to have my 100 pound nine – almost ten – year old out in public or at school wearing a bib. He gets enough stares as it is. Not that he knows but the rest of us sure see it. And we feel it in our hearts. That sting and jab. But the fact of the matter is that today alone Ryan went through five shirts because each one was soaked in drool. And who wants to sit around with a sopping wet shirt on? Not me. So it’s time for the bibs to make their way back into the McClintick house. Sidney, Travis and I sat around today talking about what kind of bibs to make. Let’s face it, the ones at the store are not make for 100 pound droolers. So we talked about making some that say “I’m smarter than Obama” or “Drool is cool” or “The slobber king” or maybe making some with trucks or animals or skulls and crossbones. I don’t know. It’s not so fun to talk about making bibs for a fifth grader. It just makes me sad. But here we are and this is what I have to do. Guess it’s time for another sewing project.

Today the sister found a cheap, old Christmas apron that no one knows where it came from and put it on the drooler. Hey it worked for a while. Such a sweet boy. I know I’ll get over this whole drooling and bib drama but for today, this is my reality. Tomorrow is a new day and I’m sure after a few more sunsets and sunrises, my attitude will change and this new normal, once again, will be just that. Normal. That’s usually how it works.