two years young

by Amy

it’s time to stop counting in months.  when you wake up in the morning, you will be two years old.  not 14 months, six months or 23 months…two years.

there is such joy over watching you grow but a wash of sadness at the same time.  right now, you are the youngest.  for the first time in five years, my youngest isn’t held next to the new baby being woven together in my tummy.  it isn’t like my baby is moving up to make room for the next, it’s just…my baby is moving up.

so i stole some cuddles from you tonight.  i do this often but tonight, it was different.

wrapped up in your two “ba-lain-kies” and one lovey, i laid you in my arms instead of resting your head on my shoulder as is normal routine.  your feet dangled over the edge of the rocker by about six inches and your little toes peeked out for a visit.

those naked toes.  footed jammies are slowly being pruned out of your pajama drawer because big boys…they don’t wear baby jammies.

we rocked.  the chair squeaked.  you yawned.  i stared at you.  framed in swaddling, you looked so small again.  in the wink of a moment, i traveled back to the times when this was the only way we cuddled.  i almost wished to be back there.  nursing, burping you, 3 month clothes small enough for a doll…almost wished for that time again.  and i am sure this won’t be the last time.  randomly at age six, i will remember the baby noises you used to sing to me.  around age ten, i presume that visions of your tic-tac toes will pitter patter across my mind.  somewhere in the middle of 18, i will tousle your hair but only feel those sweet baby tendrils between my fingers.

but for now, you become two.  i stand at the precipice, anxious for what comes in the next twelve months.  eager to see you grow in mind and body.  excited to hear you speak clearer and more bold, the awesome thoughts that go through your head.  ready to share in the wonder of wonders as you discover more of this world around you.  and, here i am, already looking forward 365 days from now, to the evening when i can sneak in your room and swoop you up.  coddled like a baby in my arms, i will rock and stare and maybe sing as i miss the age that, in two hours, will be two.

i love watching you grow and i love you in this exact moment.  i love you ethan bean.