Wistful
A couple of weeks ago I sat and watched Patches play with a friend’s transformer toys. As I watched I remembered him being mesmerized by the display of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles toys at a McDonalds. At that moment I realized that my little boy is moving away from the world of Blues Clues and into a world of Ninja Turtles and Transformers. This change does not surprise me, I’ve seen three kids before him make similar shifts in interest. The change itself is not the surprise, but somehow I wasn’t expecting it right now. Patches is my youngest child and he is not a toddler anymore. I rejoice for this. I love watching him get stronger, smarter, more capable. But I also feel wistful.
On the same day that I noted Patches and the transformers, Gleek announced that she has wiggly teeth. This is also to be expected. She is 6 years old, prime age for growing adult teeth. But it saddens me that her beautiful little row of baby teeth is about to be replaced by a mish-mash of gaps and oversized grown up teeth. I know it is part of growing up. I know that I’ll love the gap-toothed smile as much as I love the one I see now. I still feel the urge to grab a camera and take a million pictures. I want to capture who she is right now, because in a year this Gleek will be gone. She’ll be replaced with an older version.
Life rolls on. I can’t bid any moment to stay forever. But sometimes I want to. . . just a little.