fourth came too quickly
My baby is four years old today.
I have no idea where the time has gone. Some days I scrunch my eyes shut tight and hope for it all to be over soon. A few more years...rationalizing...reasoning...threats that actually work.
Other days I hold him tight and wish to stop the growing. Just keep him in my arms for a few more years. It won't happen...but I like the thought.
I can barely carry him now. So much for keeping him sleeping on the trip to school. Soon I'll have to wake him so he can walk on his own.
He's difficult, but I doubt he'll ever not be.
I laid in bed with him tonight and told him about the day I had him. Thought about how
And I wanted to cry for the year that's passed with just the two of us. But instead I smiled at him, told him I loved him. Reminded him that Dad missed him. Put him to bed and left the room.
Now he's loud and talking...he should be sleeping. It's his birthday so I'll give him another hour before I go in and put him back to bed with a stern warning.
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