Every year, on my children’s birthdays, I reflect how time is passing quickly. I look at them growing out of baby stages, then toddler stages, and into wonderful little people and feel my heart swell with pride, joy, happiness and love.
Today my first born turned 5 years old and once again I find myself reflecting.
What is it about this milestone that seems so much, bigger? It seems more meaningful somehow. Is it because he’s speaking more clearly and more often? Is it because he is able to do ‘big boy’ games that a year ago were more difficult? Is it simply all in my head that turning 5 years old is huge?
No matter what the cause, I reflect on the quickening passage of time, and how 5 years ago I was a new mother for the first time. How it felt to hold him, to look at him. How the constant worry doesn’t seem to dwindle each year.
Afternoon snuggles with him today have confirmed one thing though: Nothing beats those snuggles, and he’s definitely still little enough to cuddle with his mama. Even though age 5 seems so much older, he’s still a young child. My first baby. A little kiddo really, and that’s the way I like it right now.
Happy birthday my music-loving, baseball playing, sense of humour wielding, sweet little guy.
