Right now, you are peacefully dozing in my arms. Your small hand clutches a piece of my hair, which you’ve mistaken for your beloved security blanket. As you drift into slumber, whether it’s at the end of the day around 9 p.m. or during the early hours at 5 a.m., your breath is steady. It’s almost time for me to place you in your crib, careful to navigate over the baby gate that now seems almost pointless. The entirety of your toddler frame rests against me, and I can’t help but notice how my lap feels smaller with each passing day.
But you’re not growing up.
Just yesterday, I observed you effortlessly climb into your car seat after daycare. My role was reduced to simply fastening your seatbelt, and I suspect it won’t be long before you can handle that task independently as well—a reality that fills me with both pride and a hint of sadness.
But you’re not growing up.
You have learned to pour water from a bottle into your big boy cup without much fuss. Sure, a drop may spill here and there, but overall, you’ve got it down. I remind you to use both hands, thinking you still need my guidance until I realize you’re managing just fine with one hand. Your little fingers now possess a strength and dexterity that I’m coming to terms with, even if I don’t want to fully admit it.
But you’re not growing up.
Today, you made it through without any potty accidents, a feat you’ve consistently achieved for most of the week. Your precautionary pull-up was dry this morning, signaling that your body is adapting to big boy toilet training. Your collection of underwear has expanded significantly—nearly thirty pairs now—and I know soon, pull-ups will be a thing of the past. While I’m relieved and proud, there’s that nagging feeling of wishing to hold onto these moments just a bit longer.
But you’re not growing up.
You returned home with a goody bag from daycare, filled with snacks, including your favorite Starburst. I inquired if you wanted help opening one, but you dismissed me. Instead, I watched as your tiny hands skillfully unwrapped the candy, tossing the paper aside before popping the sweet treat into your mouth.
But you’re not growing up.
I recognize that what I’ve expressed contradicts the very essence of my claim. I understand I may sound like a parent in denial, and maybe I am. I wish for you to remain my baby forever, cherishing this phase where simple picnics are the highlight of your day, where your booboos can still be healed with a kiss, and you ask me to dance with you—yes, even in public!
I acknowledge that this phase will not last forever. Your growth is evident in your clothing; the snug fit of your T-shirts and the way I hope your pants don’t turn into high-waters before we can transition to shorts.
But you’re not growing up. You’re simply growing out and away.
Out of 2T clothes, away from baby books. Out of size 9 shoes, and away from sippy cups. Out of tantrums (thankfully) and away from riding in the front of the shopping cart. You’re growing out of my arms and away from my protective embrace. Out of my lap and away from our cherished bedtime routines. Out of my reach and away from my watchful eyes.
Understanding this, I resist the urge to hold you all night long, though I know it’s an impossible battle. You need your rest, and so do I.
Rest well, dear child. Remember this: no matter how much you grow, you will never outgrow my days or drift away from my future. You will always remain in my thoughts, cared for in my heart, and enveloped in my love.
As I close my eyes tonight, I’ll remind myself that tomorrow you will be just a little bit farther away, but I can still guide you from where I stand. Knowing this brings me peace, allowing me to embrace the out-and-away journey of your growth.
But you’re not growing up.
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In summary, this heartfelt reflection captures the bittersweet nature of watching a child grow. Despite the physical changes and increasing independence, the love and connection remain unwavering.
Keyphrase: The Journey of Growth
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