"Look, Mommy!"
By the time I look, he's off already. Running, bouncing, somersaulting. His shrieks are total elation.
I try to take snapshots - mental and digital - but he's too fast for me to get a good picture.
Every now and then, I manage to catch him as he zooms by. I throw my arm out and pull him in while he giggles and squirms. I try to memorize how it feels to hug him at this age.
But as soon as I think I've got it, and I'll never, never forget it - sturdy body that fits neatly against my torso, cornsilk hair smelling (inexplicably) of vanilla - he wriggles free and it's gone.
He thinks it's a huge joke, this scooting away from me at the speed of laughter. This non-stop, screwball turning into a "big kid," whatever that means.
He looks so mature to me now, even as he disappears down the hallway in a full toddler gallop (with food in his mouth, no less). He seems so "boyly." He says things like, "Okay, Mommy, here's the plan." When I suggest that he thank a store clerk for some stickers or a friendly compliment, he tells me, "No, I can only say 'thank you' to you and Daddy."
Of course, I know that a year from now I'll look back at pictures of him from today and say, "Oh, he was a baby!"
Of course, I know that a year from now I'll look back at pictures of him from today and say, "Oh, he was a baby!"
So I try to stay focused, because I know how quickly this will pass. Except that the present is a blur of motion. I run after him like crazy, but I'll never be able to catch up. I think he'll always be faster than I am.
2 comments:
It really does go by so quickly. I want it all to slow down. My little boy is a huge boy now, and my new little daughter looks so long sleeping next to me at night lately.
Just yesterday, I was looking at a picture of Julian when he was 3. I remember when I took the picture thinking how huge he was, how he wasn't a baby anymore. And now I look at it and all I can see is a super tiny boy who is gone from me and will never be that small again.
It's so beautiful, but breaks my heart into a thousand pieces if I try to think about it too much.
I feel this everyday too. It's hard to not feel in so much pain that it passes so quickly. And now that I've had my last baby, I feel this even more desperate need to hang on to him, squeeze him, and kiss his little head and cheeks while he can't push me away.
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