One day…

milo and woody

…he won’t burst out in delighted laughter every time he hears the first few bars of “You’ve Got A Friend In Me.”

…he won’t walk around on his tiptoes.

…he won’t fake laugh to copy Mama and Daddy

…he won’t tickle his brother’s feet and make high pitched squealing sounds (cute!)

…he won’t feel the need to LOUDLY identify every “ball” that passes through his gaze

…he won’t hold my finger and “help” me click and drag on pictures when we use the Kindle

…he won’t use sign language

…he won’t pat our backs when he lift him up to our shoulder

…he won’t giggle when we make Monka dance on the bars of the crib.

…he won’t be enthralled with plastic easter eggs

…he won’t be a baby anymore.

This hits me especially hard when we are driving.  The sound of “the Toy Story song” can absolutely change the mood in the car, and his little sweet voice lifts up and I realize “you don’t get this forever.”  I never really focus on the way time is passing because some days are short and some days are long and sometimes I feel like I’ve always been a mom and sometimes I cannot believe that anyone would leave two kids in my inexperienced care.  So time is just time right now.  I can’t really imagine how it will feel to look back, to read the gloworm letters, to remember.  But I have this really fuzzy sense that it’s going to be a sucker punch.  You’re going to wish you remembered more.   You’re going to lose some details with the passing of time. You’re going to need to write down the way he glows when you sing along with Randy Newman, because you might forget it, and you’ll never get it back.

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