Too small

I knew the day would come when my lap would be too small for my boy to sit in. I didn't know it would be so soon.

Zachary is now three, knows his mind, and has his own *strong* opinions. He is 40 inches tall, and loves to show off his Samson-like strength. It is thrilling to watch him grow and develop into the big boy that he is. But it's heartbreaking, too, because the past three years have gone more quickly than I could have imagined.

I've been working more than normal recently, so Zachary and I often grab whatever sweet moments together that we can. The other morning, he woke up at 4:30, asking to rock with me. Since this request now comes as often as Hailey's Comet, I seized the chance to drowsily rock with my all-arms-and-legs little dude.

As we rocked in the wee hours of the morning, listening to the birds usher in the day with their chirp-talk, I realized, "Zachary isn't really sitting in my lap." Rather, he was sitting beside me, because he had started sliding off my lap. It's too small. So, with that realization, I began mourning the passing of the "littleness" in my life. Zachary is now "big."

As much as I celebrate his growth and development, a little bit of my heart is broken. I know he's still little comparatively, but somewhere along the line, we passed that baton on to other friends who have had kids since he was born. So, I wipe away the tears of sadness, and brighten up, smile, and ask Zachary to show me how he can climb that baseball backstop. We have much to look forward to, but I secretly hope he asks to rock at least one more time.