What a blessed time of life this is.

I read Whit Goodnight Moon tonight, blinking back tears (yes, Ally, I am officially a cryer) as I wondered how many more times I will sit with him at bedtime, rocking and reading the familiar words I could easily recite by heart. He was tired tonight, and as he snuggled against my chest his eyes were fluttering closed. I ache thinking about how fast this flies.

Had the same experience with Gracie today. I came out of my teacher conference, and she was on the swings, facing away from me. She was all by herself, pumping hard and swinging high. My heart leapt into my throat as I considered how grown up and self-sufficient she is already. How smoothly she can make herself swing, how high she can fly.

A set of cliches, to be sure, but profoundly emotional ones. As Lacy says, life is a series of losses. Somehow parenting makes this reality so salient, so tangible. And as Daddy points out, we WANT them to grow up, to walk further without seeking our reassurance, to grow into their own selves (as Grace used to say: “I want to do it my own self!“) But oh, how bittersweet is this passage!