Skip to main content

If you keep feeding them, they just keep growing

A couple weeks ago, we went to the playground with the giant rock-climbing wall. I turned to grab my camera, took my eyes off Sweet Boy for a minute, and the next thing I knew, he was 12 feet off the ground, standing proudly on the platform at the top of the wall, waving and smiling to me. I looked at Big Daddy and said, "How the hell did he get up there?!" He climbed, replied my nonchalant spouse. "He can't climb up there by himself! He's too little!"

The day after that mindblowing rock-wall climb, we were sitting at lunch when I heard a tiny knock at the door. Standing on our steps was Sweet Boy's little buddy from across the street: "Can Sweet Boy come over to play?" Imagine my delight -- his first come-out-to-play request! I watched Sweet Boy take one last gulp of PB&J then charge out the door and across the street with our friend's mom. I yelled after him "just 20 minutes! I'll be over soon!" And I turned to my husband and said, "Can he go over there by himself? Doesn't he need me? He's not too little?"

Today we went to the National Aquarium in Baltimore, and as I started unpacking the car with all our jackets and backpacks, I reached for the stroller. Both Sweet Boy and Big Daddy looked at me like I was nuts. "I can walk, Mommy," said the little one. "He can walk, hon," said the big one. But it's far! We're going to be walking all day! He'll be tired and whiny! He's too little! But once again, I was wrong. He's a big boy now. He walked and walked and walked all day, and only complained one time right at the end of the day (when all three of us were dragging and whiny).

These are just a few examples of the countless ways my son has shocked me with his maturity in the last couple weeks. There's also the vast and ever-growing vocabulary, the name spelling and writing, the wild and imaginative stories, the big boy pants straight through the night. The most significant grown-up boy development in the last few weeks has been the easy daycare drop-off. Who knew an exuberant, happy child waving bravely to me from the window could bring me to tears just as quickly as the miserable, crying one could?

It's no exaggeration that he's growing before our eyes, every day becoming more and more fun and interesting and intelligent and amazing. Yet in our busy day-to-day we often miss the little things. Which is why we decided to take this week off, to enjoy a family staycation, to soak up every wonderful minute with this little dreamboy. Because he's not so little anymore, and we just don't want to miss a thing.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ottomania!

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about ottomans. A ridiculous amount of time, actually, given the number of other things I truly should focus my thoughts on. I find, though, that when the world outside gets scary (and scary is a truly relative term these days) I turn to online shopping for things I don't really need. Actually, it's more like online browsing; I rarely purchase. I spend hours searching for, oh, erasable colored gel pens or standing desks or all-natural curly-hair gel or the perfect black sweater. (Yes, these are things I've fixated on over this winter; I still haven't clicked "buy" nor settled on any of them.) This week, it's ottomans. By the way, my girl  BrenĂ©  Brown would call this behavior numbing . I'm okay with that. Because online browsing is way less detrimental (so far) than chain smoking, which is what I'd really like to do when the world is scary. It's a way to escape, to daydream, to focus on things tha

What all parents should do

When accepting one of her Emmy awards a couple weeks ago, Tina Fey thanked her parents for "somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do." I couldn't agree more, Tina -- about the job of parents, not your looks or abilities. (For the record, I think Tina Fey is one of the most brilliant women out there, and lovely to boot.) I was also raised by parents who gave me confidence well beyond my looks and abilities -- even though they didn't have much confidence in their own looks or abilities -- and I am constantly grateful. In hindsight, I realize my mother struggled with terrible self-esteem, but she somehow projected all her hopes and dreams onto me. She told me every day that I was smart and beautiful and could do anything; she never missed an opportunity to tell me she was proud of me. (And the worst punishment in the world was to hear her say "I'm disappointed in you