Let Them Stay Little Forever

When my daughter was a baby, I carried her around all day long, sometimes like a football. She never cried or complained. She just wanted to be with me, curled into me. 

I was surprised because her older brother had been different. He was born with minor breathing issues that made him cranky and colicky. He spent the first few months of his life flailing and projectile vomiting and bawling. Then one day he sat up for the first time and smiled. The doctors said that once he could sit up, his breathing would improve; his larynx would mature quickly; he would feel better. And he did. His temperament morphed nearly overnight into the one he has today: active, always moving, sensitive, intuitive, outgoing – a big-hearted kid who love nearly everyone he meets. 

But he’s never been much of a hugger. 

Now he is nine, a few months away from ten, and he hugged me tonight. Then he sat next to me on a big chair, talking, lounging against me. I had a flashback to how I used to sit him on my lap on this very chair many years ago while he looked up at me and laughed. And then he would squirm off my lap and lunge towards the floor, ready to explore again. 

I told him this story tonight. And he looked at me and grinned and said, “Mom, I’ll always, always sit on your lap.” 

Nine going on ten. He’s already so big, he doesn’t fit on my lap, all lanky limbs and big feet and face beginning to look so thinned out and grown up. But he’s still young enough to believe he’ll always sit on his mother’s lap. 

Each day is so precious. Time moves too fast. 


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