Growing Up

is just a tricky little thing that can sneak up on a child.

Or on an adult, for that matter.

Last week, I had my first baby.  The next day I had my second.  And then shortly after that I had my third child.  Yesterday, my last child was born.


Or at least that's what it feels like.
Time plays a funny trick on me.  Often, the days DRAG on just like the way kids drag their feet when they are getting ready for bed.  The years, though, seem to fly by, the same way the kids fly towards the door when they know their grandparents are knocking on it.  The years barely give me any time to blink lest I miss the brief moments in my life.  It's sort of like being at a wedding, watching the bride and groom promise their lives to each other all the while waiting for the moment for that first kiss, which seems like forever in coming.  And if you blink, you might miss that special moment when it finally does happen.



Yesterday, Squirrel decided that she wanted to take a training wheel off her bike, the goal being better balance in order to promote herself to the next level: riding on two wheels.  Instead of getting used to the one-training wheel for a couple of weeks, today she wanted the other one off.  After 1 minute of help from me, she was off like Lightning McQueen racing against Chick Hicks and The King.


I about cried.

Yet I was full of joy and happiness that this baby I birthed last week (or maybe it was 7 years ago...) is now riding her "two-wheeler".




"It's a great day, a great day, a great day!", Squirrel declared this morning, just like Ramona Quimby joyfully squealed on her first day of Kindergarten in Ramona the Pest by Beverly Cleary.




Before I know it, Squirrel will grow up, meet a boy, fall in love, get engaged and the days will drag on as the years fly until her wedding day, when she'll exchange vows with some blessed young man, and then that moment will come where she'll share her first kiss with her new husband.

And it will be time for me to let go.




And then I'll blink.

No comments :

Post a Comment