Each day, it’s becoming more and more obvious that my baby is no longer a baby. Just last night night as he was begging to be tickled, John and I exchanged one of those They Are Growing Up Way Too Fast glances… you know the kind.
It’s not that I didn’t know it was coming. My almost four year old is…well… ALMOST FOUR. The day’s can be long, but the years pass so quickly.
Can someone get me a tissue?
Really though, I’m happy my little one is growing so fast. You only need an hour of the local news to be reminded that kids are something to never take for granted.
It’s pretty cute how much he wants to be just like his big brother. I don’t think he realizes yet that he can’t quite do everything 4 year olds do.
But what’s making this whole growing baby thing odd is there’s always a chance that he’ll be my last.
Actually, we really want a big family… just not yet. I’d love (I think more than anything) to grow old with a ton of children and grandbabies around.
But after my miscarriage 3 years ago, I’m painfully aware that we don’t get to plan every detail of our lives.