May 13, 2018

Not-so-little piggies

My kids were getting ready for bed a few weeks ago when Jack told me he had a cut on his foot that he wanted me to look at. I told him to go get in bed and I'd come up and look at it in a minute. As I finished what I was doing in the kitchen and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, I had no idea what I was about to encounter.

I sat on the edge of his bed and asked to see his foot when suddenly, a giant man-foot plopped onto my lap. I stared at it for a what seemed like an hour, until Jack said, "Mom, what's wrong?" I looked at him, and then his foot, and then back at him, just to make sure that this lower extremity truly belonged to my little boy. This was not the foot of a little boy. It was the foot of a young adult.

When did this happen? When did his sweet baby feet disappear? I missed it. The transition came and left without any notice at all.

You know what? I can't remember the last time I played "this little piggie" with his toes. I mean, I know there was a final time, but I can't remember it. When I was sending that last little piggie home yelling "wee wee wee" I had no idea it would never happen again. I can't grab his big toe and send it to the market now, because that would be weird. (Right? It would be weird. I can't do that, can I? I didn't think so. Thanks for keeping me on track.)

The days are long, but my kids are growing faster than I can keep up with. It's painful to think about all of the "lasts" that will come and go, many without notice. Please don't get me started on the upcoming 5th grade graduation (just speaking the words "middle school" gives me anxiety).

Fortunately, the "lasts" still have plenty of "firsts" to make up for them.

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