My baby boy is turning 2 this Sunday! In some ways it’s incomprehensible to me. Where did the last 2 years go? It was just yesterday that I was walking around with a big belly all filled up with arms and legs. It seems like just a minute ago that I was overjoyed to see my chubby little baby sitting up on his own.
Now here he is, two whole years old and a person all his own. He notices things that I never notice and points them out to me. He forms his own ideas about the things that he sees. It dazzles me every single day.
I remember thinking that he would never do anything. That he would just lie there making little baby sounds forever. And then he started to smile…and to giggle…and to play. And from there he just took off. When he turned one last year, I was happy to have that difficult first year behind me, to have moved from being a slave to this little being onto having someone to spend my days with.
This year I find myself a little sad. I always knew I wouldn’t be a parent who didn’t want their child to grown up. I’m proud of each and every thing he learns to do and I’ll continue to be that way. But I can’t help mourning the loss of his babyhood. I wonder what happened to that roly poly little ball of chub that I once had.