A couple of mornings ago I walked past the tub in the childrens' bathroom and noticed I had forgotten to put the toys away the night before. I couldn't help but notice that all of our tub toys looked a bit too babyish for my children. I lingered for just a moment and considered that our days of three in a tub are numbered.
K, P & R have each grown three inches since September. Even though they are still quite small for their age, everywhere we go people comment on how they are growing. The new pants I bought in December are already a bit too short. (Why must they outgrow clothes mid-season?)
And did you see my sweet girl in that ballerina costume? She looked years older than I think of her!
This afternoon P was dillydallying as we were trying to get K in and out of ballet so I picked him up and carried him. As I made my way up the stairs I thought: It doesn't matter that he is only 31 pounds. He will be 5 years old in a few months. I really should not be carrying him.
Tonight we met a male friend from our old preschool. Watching the little guys wrestle and growl like real boys was yet another reminder that our baby days are really all but gone.
I LOVE the relationships I have with my children at this age. There is so much about this stage that thrills me...but every now and then I get a little reminder of the old days (and realize they will be FIVE in May) and my heart is a wee bit wistful.
Even though I have been intentionally savoring it, the sands of time are slipping through my fingers at an increasingly rapid pace.