Today is our son’s fourth birthday and instead of fully immersing myself in getting the celebration started, I’m consumed by the question of where did the last four years go? Sure, it’s not like he’s 18 and leaving the nest (I cringe just thinking about it).
I remember friends and perfectly good strangers warning me it goes by fast, not that I fully believed them because (at the time) I was suffering from feeling like an overused dairy cow and a haunting pile of soiled crib bedding that seemed to grow by the day. But here we are- grown out of needing breastmilk and diapers and all I can think of is how I want him to slow down before he outgrows the little things that makes his age so special now.
I want to hold on to…
The wisps of unruly curls when we would slack on haircuts.
The way you ask me to read the same book again and you giggle like you just heard the story for the first time.
Your “frakles” that you love to show me and count off in the most matter-of-fact tone you can muster.
Dirty little fingernails. I can’t ever keep them clean because you love to play in rocks…sand…dirt and anything gooey- I wouldn’t have it any other way.
How you snuggle next to me and say, “nice n cozy”.
Your little smile when I run my fingers through your hair as you nod gently to sleep.
Finding your toys in my bedding.