Tonight I was laying down with P. in her big girl bed to sing her goodnight song and it occurred to me how long and broad her body felt next to mine. Somehow she grew into childhood without my realizing it. Or maybe it's just that now we can stretch out in every direction on her new full mattress so the reality of her six years is more apparent.
We bought a gift for a friend recently and the recommended age on the gift was 8+. My first thought was that's forever from now, but then it occurred to me that it's just two years. Eight is just two years away. How crazy is that?
Now Bo has enough words that he's started to reveal some of his inner world through language. "I want to fly in the sky like a bird," he says to me one day out of the blue. Today he got very serious and quite for a minute before he said, "I want to be a big person someday."
And so you will, I told him. How crazy is that? It's hard to see the grownups that these kids are going to become but it'll happen without my realizing it as sure as it did when P. turned into a big kid right under my nose. Bo is hot on her heels, suddenly having become introspective and thoughtful.
When did P. get so big? When did Bo become so complex? Where does the time go? These are not a rhetorical questions. What I want to know is into what dimension do the interstitial moments fall so that we can't fish them out? There's so much that has happened yet so much I clearly didn't witness.
I swear that it was only yesterday or maybe the day before that P. was all of four pounds and change, balanced on my shoulder in the dark while I sang that same goodnight song.
Sometimes I'm too afraid to blink because I can't bear missing so much.