Wow, six years old. My little baby is six years old. To be clear, that is still really young and really small. But it is also hard to believe. Where did the time go? Where did the years go?
Well, to start, they went to two cross-country moves and living in three different homes. They went from rear-facing to front-facing; from crib to bed. They went from first tooth in to first tooth out. They traveled probably hundreds of miles in a beloved Ergo carrier.
They went to literally growing ten times in size (from 4 pounds to 40)!
They went to thousands of bedtime stories, too many coloring book pages to count, and art projects of all shapes and sizes. They went to music class and Mommy and Me class. And, later, tumbling class and ballet class and swim class and space camp. They went to preschool. They went to kindergarten. They went to packed lunches and field trips.
They went to no small amount of traveling, but never enough. They went from learning to talk, to learning the ABC’s, to learning to read. They went to play doh. They went to bubbles. They went to playground swings.
They went to sleepless nights. But, fortunately, they also napped. They went to many playdates. They went to much time alone, just you and me. They went to hopefully more laughter than tears.
The years have heard me say too many times “Eat your broccoli.” and “Pick up your toys please.” and “Did you wash your hands?”
Thankfully, they have been mostly healthy years.
So now, I find myself a third of the way done. In 12 short years, you, my baby, will be a legal adult. Truly, the days can be long but the years are short. Where will these years go?
Hopefully to happiness and health and only minimal sadness and minor tragedies. Hopefully to more travel and more fun and more memories.
Six, I think, is a good age. You are out of diapers (a minor miracle, as far as I am concerned). You sleep through the night (a major miracle, as far as I am concerned). You behave pretty well in restaurants. You travel well. You are witty and smart and clever. You still need me. You still call me “Mama”. I think (I hope!) we are entering a sweet spot of childhood and I want to make the most of it.
Happy Birthday, sweet girl. You will always be my baby.