This picture popped up on my screen saver yesterday, and the timing couldn't have been better:
It makes me laugh because the look is so Clover. She's been pretty unsure of babies until just recently, and it doesn't seem like that long ago that she finally accepted that she has a younger brother and he's here to stay.
My baby is six today, and while I love everything about watching him grow, six is kind of a weird spot. When Clover was a toddler, I'd look at five year olds and think, "wow, that is mature. Five is old." But five isn't old. Five still needs to have his hand held when crossing a street, and while five can use the bathroom alone, too much time in there alone surely leads to soap suds (or worse, pee) on every surface. Six feels like we're really crossing over from tiny kid who needs his lovies to sleep to bigger kid who plays more with baseballs, footballs, and wooden swords more than stuffies.
The nostalgia surely comes from the fact that I'm packing up the house for our remodel, requiring me to evaluate each toy as to whether or not he'll care about them in six months. I packed the large German trucks into a box, the trucks we researched and splurged on long ago, and he pushed around the house, yet sadly, the trucks may not need to be unpacked. We erred on the side of innocence, packing away more toys than we gave away because he may still want to play with his Fisher Price castle or the magnetic building pieces, but he may not. Six months is the near future for us, but for a six year old, six months is a good chunk of life. Packing the toys away may be more for me than for him. I'm not ready to let go of the trucks, or it turns out the dollhouse, which we've decided to save for the distant future because we can't stand to see it go.
Six brings new toys and fun. We let him open an early birthday present before he went swimming at his grandparents' house this week, and he yelled out, "I GOT A SNORTLE!" That is six. Ready for a snorkel, but not quite getting the name right on the first shot. He corrected himself soon after, even though I kept calling it a snortle, because, as usual, mom's not ready to let the baby stage go.
This kid is amazing. He is sweet, funny, fun, adventurous, kind, and each day, would eat his weight in fruit, if we'd let him. He brings me so much joy, and I love him with all of my heart. Thank you, baby, for still holding mama's hand.