Tick, tick, tick...
Caches, your downy blonde head that once only grazed the underside of the table is now inches above, eye to eye with the top. Your once fruitless reaches to the counter are now met with treats that are hastily left too close to the edge. Your toddling has evolved into a steady walk and a quick run. Babbles are now words and there seem to be new ones each day. Your world is growing and so are you. Baby, why are you in such a hurry?
You run from the rocks to the wagon and climb inside all by yourself. "Go!" you tell me. You wake up, greet your dad and I and then shimmy out of bed to talk to the dogs. If I say in bed too long I hear you meowing, awaiting my heap to feel the cat. You request an egg for breakfast and without my even asking, fetch a bowl and a fork all by yourself. "Ready!" "Eat?" You are climbing and growing and changing each day. Your pants are too short and your shirts show your belly button when you lift your arms. Your hair which once was hardly visible, now feathers over your ears and occasionally tickles your eyelashes. Slow down my baby.
I am trying to take it all in, I really am. I desperately want to memorize your face today, for I know it will change by tomorrow. No doubt you grow in your sleep. The roundness of your cheeks will soon sharpen, your jaw will become more pronounced. Your eyebrows will darken, your limbs will lengthen, and your teeth will continue to fill in. There is no stopping it.
You will never look the same as you do today. I will never get to go back and caress your three month old cheek, or your five month old head. I will never again get to spend quiet hours inhaling your sweet breath as you slept on my chest. I will never again get to watch the clumsy nine month old you taking your first step. Or the thirteen month old you utter your first word. Time is fleeting baby, though I try to hold on.
And so each night when your curl up on my lap to nurse, I observe your feet, twitching with delight and nearly poking through your footed pajamas. I scan over your legs, ever growing and getting stronger. I hold your hand and you wrap your fingers around my thumb and squeeze hard. I squeeze back remembering when your tiny hand would grab and hold tight in reflex. Your fingernails once so tiny and clean, now chipped and often packed with dirt. I stare hard at your perfect face in the dim light of your room. Your eyes wander and when they find mine you smile. I smile. You have a small bump on your lower lip from falling down nearly a year ago, and your hair seems to be darkening. You are evolving
I know I can't stop time, or even slow it's pace. And in the end, I really don't want to. I know that God willing, you will get bigger and stronger and more fiercely independent as the days pass. You will not be this little forever, nor change so rapidly. The change will slow and the days will turn to weeks, months and years until I am looking at a grown man. A man who was once a helpless infant with a fire inside so strong that he was sure to change the world forever. And I know you will. You have already begun.
You run from the rocks to the wagon and climb inside all by yourself. "Go!" you tell me. You wake up, greet your dad and I and then shimmy out of bed to talk to the dogs. If I say in bed too long I hear you meowing, awaiting my heap to feel the cat. You request an egg for breakfast and without my even asking, fetch a bowl and a fork all by yourself. "Ready!" "Eat?" You are climbing and growing and changing each day. Your pants are too short and your shirts show your belly button when you lift your arms. Your hair which once was hardly visible, now feathers over your ears and occasionally tickles your eyelashes. Slow down my baby.
I am trying to take it all in, I really am. I desperately want to memorize your face today, for I know it will change by tomorrow. No doubt you grow in your sleep. The roundness of your cheeks will soon sharpen, your jaw will become more pronounced. Your eyebrows will darken, your limbs will lengthen, and your teeth will continue to fill in. There is no stopping it.
You will never look the same as you do today. I will never get to go back and caress your three month old cheek, or your five month old head. I will never again get to spend quiet hours inhaling your sweet breath as you slept on my chest. I will never again get to watch the clumsy nine month old you taking your first step. Or the thirteen month old you utter your first word. Time is fleeting baby, though I try to hold on.
And so each night when your curl up on my lap to nurse, I observe your feet, twitching with delight and nearly poking through your footed pajamas. I scan over your legs, ever growing and getting stronger. I hold your hand and you wrap your fingers around my thumb and squeeze hard. I squeeze back remembering when your tiny hand would grab and hold tight in reflex. Your fingernails once so tiny and clean, now chipped and often packed with dirt. I stare hard at your perfect face in the dim light of your room. Your eyes wander and when they find mine you smile. I smile. You have a small bump on your lower lip from falling down nearly a year ago, and your hair seems to be darkening. You are evolving
I know I can't stop time, or even slow it's pace. And in the end, I really don't want to. I know that God willing, you will get bigger and stronger and more fiercely independent as the days pass. You will not be this little forever, nor change so rapidly. The change will slow and the days will turn to weeks, months and years until I am looking at a grown man. A man who was once a helpless infant with a fire inside so strong that he was sure to change the world forever. And I know you will. You have already begun.
I love the name of your blog and this was so touching. As mine keep growing everyday, I watch time flying by and realize we cant stop it and need to cherish every moment and subtle nuance.
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