Tomorrow is R2’s last day of 5th grade. Next year he’ll be going to middle school. That is very weird, because he is a baby.
I don’t feel really emotional about it, because it’s just an age thing. What I do feel a little emotional about is the fact that he looks like a kid. Almost even like a preteen. One benefit of having miniature children is that you get to enjoy the baby stage a lot longer. Sometimes too long.
He didn’t walk until he was 4, but he looked like a 2 year old, maybe. When I made comments about wishing he could walk, then I’d get the typical “oh soon he will and you will wish he wouldn’t and they grow so fast and blah blah blah” and I’d be all snarky in my head like “He’s been drinking bottles for FOUR YEARS I think I’m ready for a little growing up now.” And then finally, he did walk and he did chew food and it was all miraculous. And I never wished he would stop.
Last week I took him to urgent care because his stomach was sticking out. Imagine my surprise when he weighed in at 44 pounds. That’s right. I took my kid to urgent care because he was growing.
Right, so that’s where I was going with this. His face doesn’t have any baby fat anymore, and his hair is getting a little greasy. I was looking at him last night, and he’s a good looking kid, but I just had this flash of his babyhood being over, forever, and he will never be tiny and chubby again.
It gives me this panicky feeling in my gut about Toby and Brynn, like I have to slow this down somehow but it’s out of my hands. Sheesh. I need a Snickers, stat.