Like always it felt gone by in a blink. The kids grew inches and gained pounds and blew through shoes and jeans and clarinet reeds
Time stomps forward. We have a seventh grader now.
I get misty. I grab them with my hands and yank them toward me and smother them into me to try and keep them little for just one more second, but they grow despite my tears.
I walk back into waters we’ve tread before. We have a Kindgergartener again, such a magical thing. Five is still mostly little. So is six, isn’t it?
This is the last year I’ll have a little one home with me all day. In the fall, Baby Bee will pose outside with her backpack dwarfing her skinny little body and she might smile at the camera and our circle begins again. She probably won’t smile for the camera. Who am I fooling?
It marches around and around, the moments slipping past us like water through our cupped hands. The tighter we try to cling to them, the faster it runs away. They’ve grown so much. It’s not even been a whole year.
Only three months left of having a little at home every day, I’m going to carpe this summer.