Yes, I know. If there ever was a perfect time for someone to invent a time machine, it’d be about now.
My ‘almost 4 year old’ fell asleep in the car on the way home last night, and as I carried her into the house, a sudden realisation hit me; she’s not my baby anymore. I think that she stopped being my baby a while ago, I just refused to see it, or accept it. As I unbuckled her car seat, slid her arms under the straps, watched her chest rise and fall, it hit me as to how quickly time is passing by. I lifted her into my arms, and even though she’s light compared to other ‘almost 4 year olds’, my arms told me how much heavier she was than when she was born. I can no longer cradle her with 1 arm; I have to hold her with both as she’s just so much bigger, and even now her head tends to roll off of my shoulder.
I placed her into her bed, and watched as she slept, watched her breathing, watched her eyes twitching, watched her legs relax, and covered her with her blanket. I kissed her cheek and she mumbled something incoherent, and I gently moved a curl out of her face. My ‘almost 4 year old’ is changing daily, growing daily, learning and exploring daily, and she makes my life better daily.
She reminds me almost everyday that she is ‘almost 4 mommy’, and as proud of her as I am, my heart breaks a little more every time that she says it.
Grow up slowly my princess-pie; stay my little girl for as long as possible, please.
I love you.