He wears size 7 shoes now.

My son is growing up.
I know, he has been doing that sort of thing for, oh, about twenty months or so now. Ok, 20 plus 9 months. But it has hit me more in the last month, these small milestones that seem so mundane individually, but spell something much bigger when linked together. My son is growing up. And while I am not looking forward to the day when he will say "Moooomm! Not in front of the other kids!" Or "You can just drop me here, I will walk the rest of the way," I find that I am really looking forward to having an "older kid". Each day as he learns and understands more, I am able to see more of what goes on in his little head. Though I have to be so much more careful (because he can reach EVERYTHING) I can also be more lax on things (he doesn't run headlong toward the stairs anymore).

Yesterday at the doctor's office he stood on the big kid scale. He put his hands on his tummy as the nurse prompted, and stood perfectly still on the scale while she weighed him, listened to his heartbeat and checked his breathing. I can still remember so vividly undressing him to lay him on the scale and the cries that came from the cold stethoscope of a nurse he didn't know. I even remember his first two doctor's visits when he would fight being stretched out to be measured- the nurse would push his little knee down to take him out of his curled position and he would protest with great anger. But yesterday he just walked out of the "weighing room" like a big kid, carrying his coat and following the nurse to the exam room.

I think that because I am with him all the time it is hard for me to remember to let him grow up. I get in my routine and forget to challenge him, to slow down and let him help. And because of this I am thankful that he is always asking to do more- pushing himself down so he can walk rather than be carried, grabbing the large pieces of wood and hauling them over to be placed in the fireplace.

He is a joy to watch, and I so look forward to the days as he gets older. Giving him cookies and asking about his day when he comes home from school, seeing him run downstairs with anticipation on Christmas morning, teaching him how to plant in the garden. As the mom in me wants to hold onto him now, while he is cuddly and wants to be read stories all the time, that very same mom also wants him to grow up and be part of the world around him, to learn to read on his own. It's strange, this "parenting" thing- what it does to your emotions and your psyche. The fear and the pride and the protectiveness and the love. I wasn't properly warned, I fear. Then again, I don't really know how you would impart that kind of knowledge on someone unless you gave them a child to raise.