I don’t ever want this to end, I thought to myself this morning as my sleepy toddler crawled into my arms, nuzzling his head into my chest.
Eyes full of sleep, he whispered: “Good morning, Mama.”
As I felt his chest heave up and down, the joy of this precious moment wasn’t lost on me.
My baby. My very last baby.
How many mornings like this will we have?
Will I even see the end coming?
The end of sticky kisses.
The end of wanting to hold my hand in the parking lot of the grocery store.
The end of late-night snuggles.
The end of being absolutely adored.
His legs are much longer these days.
He can get his own juice from the fridge.
He uses his step stool to reach the fruit snacks in the pantry.
He brushes his own teeth.
He puts on his shoes completely unassisted.
His dependency on me is lessening.
Four Norths in the South
Soon, there won’t be much left that he’ll need me for.
Soon, he’ll be the one reaching for things high up in the pantry for me.
I know it’s coming.
The days are fleeting. And these precious moments will end in the blink of an eye.
And one day, years from now when I’m longing for one of his precious, clingy, all-encompassing hugs…
It’s this memory I’ll replay over and over.
The memory of a precious little boy whose love is worth more to me than gold.
The memory of a precious little boy who thought his mama hung the moon.
And I’ll still see him as just that- my precious little boy.
This story originally appeared on Four Norths in the South