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[Dear Son: You're Not Growing Up]
Right now, you are asleep in my lap. Your left arm is raised above your head still holding your security blanket. Your blanket isn't a blanket at all, but my hair. You hold it as you drift off to dreamland, whether it's at bedtime near 9 o'clock or when you wake at 5 a.m. Your breathing is relaxed, and it's nearly safe for me to lay you in your crib bed, stepping carefully over the almost unnecessary baby gate blocking the hallway. The whole weight of your toddler frame is resting against my body as we snuggle. I can't help but notice my lap is almost too small for you and your long legs.
But you're not growing up.
I watched you just yesterday climb all by yourself into your car seat when we were leaving day care. My role was simply to buckle you in. I suspect soon you'll be able to do that without my help, too. It's just a matter of time, a small matter of time, at that, to my dismay.
But you're not growing up.
You've learned to how to successfully pour water from a bottle into your own big boy cup. You may spill a drop or two, but for the most part, you've mastered the task. I remind you to use both hands and to hold on good when picking it up. I feel the need to do this. I think you need me toâuntil I look over only to see you holding your cute tiger cup with one hand. In that moment, I'm taken aback. Your hand is cupping the glass with no trouble steadying it whatsoever. I know the cup has not shrunk so the only explanation is your hand is now bigger, stronger, and able to do so much more than I care to admit. But you're not growing up.
You went through today without a single potty accident, just like you've done for the better part of the week. Your precautionary pull-up was dry this morning because your body and bladder are adjusting to big boy toilet training. Your underwear collection has grown from three pairs to nearly thirty and soon pull-ups will just be a memory for you. I'm so happy and relieved and beyond proud.
But you're not growing up.
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