growing up: the bittersweet
My oldest is twenty-nine months old. In less than one month, he will be thirty months old, or, as it is more commonly called, two-and-a-half. I'll probably stop counting his age in months at that point.
I am constantly amazed by him. He is beginning to remember things that happened more than five minutes ago. He is learning colors, counting, letters. He can put his crocs and his velcro tennis shoes on by himself (and, more often than not, they're on the correct foot). He is, as he has done for the last year, singing songs, but with more clarity. He can follow more complex commands and is very helpful to me (i.e. getting diapers, cleaning up toys). He is telling us Bible stories now, retelling the stories of long ago with God as the hero. All of these milestones are monumental in my eyes. As parents, we spend tiny minutes and long hours teaching, instructing, modeling, explaining. When we see this kind of progress, we can't help but be blessed by God's gift of children.
At the same time, in a strange way, when I hear Ethan count, or see him do a forward roll, or listen as he recognizes shapes in unsuspecting places (i.e. store signs or on cereal boxes), I feel a twinge of sadness. Not because I'm truly sad, but because with each new thing he learns, with each passing day, I realize he will never not know those things again. He is quickly and without a doubt, becoming my little boy. And, as much as I am excited for him to grow and learn and experience wonderful things in his life, I think there's a part of me that wants him to stay little forever.
Ok, not really. Two is tough. There are days when I can't wait until he's twenty so I can tell him the silly things he did as a toddler and how he was dramatic and overreacted when i tried to clean the soap out of his hair in the bathtub and how it tooks months to teach him to not wake up crying. I considered video-taping him the other day when he was being a mister grumpy-pants just so I can show him one day. Cause he probably won't believe he was ever that way. (I didn't video him. Some things are better left forgotten.)
Even with all these things that come with being twenty-nine months old, I love this kiddo to pieces. I tell him every chance I get. He knows now when I ask him how much I love him-- he replies "this much", with his arms open wide. And he's not even close.
I am constantly amazed by him. He is beginning to remember things that happened more than five minutes ago. He is learning colors, counting, letters. He can put his crocs and his velcro tennis shoes on by himself (and, more often than not, they're on the correct foot). He is, as he has done for the last year, singing songs, but with more clarity. He can follow more complex commands and is very helpful to me (i.e. getting diapers, cleaning up toys). He is telling us Bible stories now, retelling the stories of long ago with God as the hero. All of these milestones are monumental in my eyes. As parents, we spend tiny minutes and long hours teaching, instructing, modeling, explaining. When we see this kind of progress, we can't help but be blessed by God's gift of children.
At the same time, in a strange way, when I hear Ethan count, or see him do a forward roll, or listen as he recognizes shapes in unsuspecting places (i.e. store signs or on cereal boxes), I feel a twinge of sadness. Not because I'm truly sad, but because with each new thing he learns, with each passing day, I realize he will never not know those things again. He is quickly and without a doubt, becoming my little boy. And, as much as I am excited for him to grow and learn and experience wonderful things in his life, I think there's a part of me that wants him to stay little forever.
Ok, not really. Two is tough. There are days when I can't wait until he's twenty so I can tell him the silly things he did as a toddler and how he was dramatic and overreacted when i tried to clean the soap out of his hair in the bathtub and how it tooks months to teach him to not wake up crying. I considered video-taping him the other day when he was being a mister grumpy-pants just so I can show him one day. Cause he probably won't believe he was ever that way. (I didn't video him. Some things are better left forgotten.)
Even with all these things that come with being twenty-nine months old, I love this kiddo to pieces. I tell him every chance I get. He knows now when I ask him how much I love him-- he replies "this much", with his arms open wide. And he's not even close.
linking up with rachel
Love your post :) I feel the same way!! We have a two year old and a five year old. Some days, I look at them turning into little girls, no longer babies, and I get so sad. I want them to slow down!!! But then some days, the whining and crying and throwing themselves in the floor is just too much ;) Stopping by from Friday Favorite Things, have a blessed day!!
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