The truth of strangers.

There are words spoken to me daily by strangers that have become a familiar and painstaking reality.   “They grow up so fast.”  From the 4O something mom at the grocery checkout, to the 84 year old gentlemen at the car dealership and everywhere in between.  It’s as if the world needs to remind me daily to take it all in. 

You have changed so much since we brought you home.  Your independence grows a little more every day, which in turn causes your dependency to fade and dissipate like the lifting of a cool autumn fog. 

There is no longer a need for me to hold you up in the tub, to feed you with a spoon, to hold your hands as you walk.  I do not open your toy chest to pull out your toys for you, or open the lids off your blocks.  You do it all on your own.  

Yet you crave more.  Pushing my hand away when I try to help you hold your spoon correctly.  Repeating “hold it” to everything I touch, especially your toothbrush, claiming you should be the one holding and in charge of the world. 

So as tiring and wearing as a day with a 17 month old can be, I am thankful for all the things you DO still need from me.  I can dress you, and hold you when you’re too tired to stand or when you demand to be “up”, seeing the world from a taller view.   I can make your meals, and wipe your tears. I can teach you that tantrums aren’t cool, and show you how to handle the heartbreak of hearing the word “no”.  I can push your swing and be the pedals to your bike.  I can be the comfort that you sometimes need in the middle of the night. 

You are morphing into a little boy with each and every sunrise.  I pray that these days are something I don’t forget.  The moments will soon become memories faster than I know.  The little old lady at the flower shop told me so.