My baby boy turns eight today.
Where did the time go?
The first four years when my spunky boy was home with me, time almost stood still. We could sit on the family room floor and play cars together without rushing to get anywhere. I’d lay newspapers on the kitchen table so he could dab animal-shaped foam stamps into tempera paint and onto oversized construction paper. We’d hang them to dry and I’d marvel at his artistic ability.
While I’d run around in circles in the kitchen cooking dinner, the Destroyer would be right by my feet either playing in the middle of my self-inflicted chaos, or he’d be trying to tickle my feet.
Since he started kindergarten, the time has just blown right by.
Today, I’m cherishing our early morning cuddles. I can still hold my boy in my arms, his lanky legs curling up into my lap in a perfect fit. I cherish that he can still lay on top of me without squeezing the breath out of my chest. He’ll place his head down and stay there for a while, like he used to do with he was a little squirt. I can still cup his cute little bum into one hand. I hold him closely because I know soon enough, he will squirm out of my hug.
I smile when he still reaches out to hold my hand when we walk – I hold it tightly because I know soon enough he’ll be letting go of it because his friends might see. I can still carry him upstairs to his bedroom after he falls asleep in my arms.
My heart swells when he tells me beautiful things like, “you’re my girl” and “I cry inside at school because I miss you.” He looks forward to our cuddle times still.
I cherish every moment we have together because I know that soon enough, he’ll be too busy with his own life to want to cuddle for hours with me.
Happy Birthday my baby. I love you to the moon and through the galaxies and back again.