In a million small ways, my children remind me every day that they are not babies. Issa started boot camp for company dance last night. We bought Evan shin guards this weekend for his first soccer team outing. They are growing up.
Every once in a while, though, they are still so little. This weekend, Evan was feeling snuggley and climbed into my lap and wrapped himself around me, head on my shoulder, snuggled into my neck. Little.
Last night, we had a mighty thunderstorm roll through. The lightning made the room look like it was noon. The thunder shook the windows, and the rain sounded like thunder. Issa was so tired from boot camp she didn't budge. It wasn't long, though, before I heard little footprints thumping down the hall. Evan was frightened, and he wanted to snuggle. We settled him in between us, and he snuggled right into me. His little fingers wrapped into my hair, just like they did when he was an infant. He nuzzled into my neck, and every time there was a clap of thunder he would stiffen until I rubbed his back. Then he would relax and settle back into sleep. He was little and I could make everything all better, and I savored every moment because I know they are fleeting.