If you've never been a mother, I can tell you exactly what happens. One minute you have a microscopic zygote embedded in your uterus; the next minute that zygote has grown a full beard and is maneuvering 2 tons of motorized metal down Bobby Jones Expressway.
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How did this happen? My son Brandon is turning 18 soon, and I have a couple of problems with it. No. 1: I'm far too young to be the mother of someone who will soon be old enough to purchase Skoal. No. 2: It was only yesterday that Brandon was calling spaghetti "gebbies" and was grooving to Raffi.
It's amazing how your child's maturity can sneak up on you. The other day when I was on my way to the grocery store, Brandon said, "Mom can you pick me up some diet Snapple? I'm watching my sugar consumption."
Watching his sugar consumption? There was a time when sugar was the only thing he was interested in consuming. I tried to recall the last time I had sugary "kiddy litter" such as Fruit Roll-Ups or Cap'n Crunch in the house. Where had the Keebler elves and the Lucky Charms leprechaun gone? I kind of miss them.
And Christmas isn't the same. It used to be that as soon as Brandon blew out his birthday candles he began composing his Christmas list. It would be a work in progress ruminated over and revised daily. The list would invariably include one item that was nearly impossible to obtain, just to keep me on my toes.
Every Christmas, I'd either be wrestling some mother for the last PlayStation, paying triple price for an elusive Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figure or standing on a street corner in the seedy part of town hissing at passers-by, "You got any Beanie Babies?"
This year I actually I had to coax Brandon to tell me what he wanted for Christmas.
"I don't know, Mom," he said with a shrug. "Maybe some sweaters."
I had to admit I was a little crestfallen. A sweater is such easy prey. There'd be no rioting in the aisles for a wool cardigan.
But I really knew that Brandon's childhood was truly over when I was visiting with a young mother, and her 4-year-old son was playing with an unfamiliar-looking doll.
"Who is that?" I asked.
The mother seemed appalled. It was as though I'd failed to recognize the president.
"That's SpongeBob SquarePants! He's huge! He makes Barney look like a B-lister."
She proceeded to tell me SpongeBob's entire biography. How he lives in a pineapple with a pet snail named Gary. How he has a thrill-seeking squirrel friend named Sandy Cheeks.
I can't remember the last time Brandon and I watched cartoons together. Where did that child go? I swear he was here only a week ago.
Truth is, he's been replaced by someone else. Someone who eats sushi and watches moody indie films. Someone who's more concerned about what he's going to give for Christmas than what he's going to get.
Overnight he turned into this whole separate person with all kinds of interests, which, thank goodness, do not yet include tobacco chewing.
Welcome to adulthood, Brandon! It's been a fun and furious trip. How did we get there so quickly?
AUGUSTA RESIDENT KARIN GILLESPIE IS THE AUTHOR OF BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR. SHE CAN BE REACHED THROUGH HER WEB SITE AT WWW.KARINGILLESPIE.COM.
