eight is enough

Enough.

Seriously.

We don't need any more years piled on just yet.
It has gone by like the millennium falcon in light speed. Just the other day he was starting kindergarten and losing his first tooth. And just a few days before that he was in diapers and learning to crawl. And before that he could fit snug and tiny and small and soft in my arms for snuggles and kisses.












And now. 8. It's too much. He's too big and old and independent. His feet are huge. His legs stick out the bottom of his pants every 3 months. He's losing more of his teeth and the roundness in his cheeks is all gone. Skinny long arms replaced his soft smushy ones. His cute little square baby teeth are missing and in their place large adult chicklettes.

His laugh sounds the same.
His voice sounds kind of the same.
His personality is changing.
His height is constantly on the move. He has experiences that I now know nothing about and am never a part of any more. He doesn't come to me for every little thing. (which is good). He can ride his bike to school and check out library books. He can swim by himself and score soccer goals.

What's worse is that it is so hard for me to remember back to when it was different. Most of the little things about his littleness and smallness are gone.

And I am just sitting to the side watching. More and more. Bigger and bigger.




Enough. 8 is enough.