My little butterfly turned five this weekend.
You’re growing so quickly, it almost takes my breath away. Some day soon, you’ll stop having baths with me, and you’ll no longer beg for lie-with-me-night. Some day soon, you won’t reach your arms up for me to lift you into the air. Some day you won’t ask for “trouble” and then laugh as I toss you onto the bed. Some day you won’t tell me funny stories about the little man in your toe who wipes his tiny little bum. Some day you won’t want to play “would you rather” anymore. Some day, you won’t pull out your little Fisher Price schoolhouse and ask me to play the teacher/mother while you play the child. Some day, you’ll read your own story books and no longer care if I read them to you. Some day we won’t build high towers out of Lego. Some day, you’ll ride your own bicycle and no longer bounce around on the tag-a-long, singing and laughing. Some day I won’t push you on the swing anymore.
When that day comes, I’m sure I will cherish the new moments that come with it, but a piece of me will wish that today had lasted just a little longer.