My son’s birthday is today, so I am in pause. The world feels like it’s standing still for just this second, as I jot down a few thoughts and reminiscences.
I remember the day he was born: the first time I saw you, held you, and rocked you in my arms. You were so small, compared to now. But, I didn’t realize it then (there are so many things I didn’t realize).
I didn’t know that the moments of you being so small would disappear in a flash, that you’d roll over, crawl, stand and run in what now seems like a matter of just a few short breathes.
I’ve loved the way your smile lights up your eyes, how you laughed and giggled, and how you insisted on becoming Hulk.
I’ve watched you grow, until you now say, “I can do it, Dada. WATCH!” You turn and run the other way, and all I want to do is pick you up and tell you once again, “Slow down, my son. One step at a time.”
Today, he’s running, laughing, and saying: “I’m FIVE!” He spreads out his hands, and I still remember the first time he grabbed by finger tight. His fingers were so miniature, but his grip was strong.
Why did nobody tell me what a hard FIVE this would be? Impossible on this first day, but also heart-breaking as I look toward all the other moments this year will hold:
- The end of Pre-K
- Kindergarten, and
- All those days that continue to speed by…
His confidence is multiplying. He wants to do everything for himself. And, I’m so proud of him…
But, I also beg… Can’t I just have one more day — before the onslaught of all that FIVE means?