He is lanky and longer than he was this time yesterday, and I don't know how it's possible that he sprouted up over night more than the plants on my back porch.
I wonder if it was the 80 degrees and sunshine
if it was the near gallon of strawberries he ate
or the all-night rest he fell into when he sunk into my armpit.
All this rich soil, and he's eating it up and showing it his too-short sleeves.
I lament sometimes about my boys morphing from small people to taller people, and I guess I expected it from my oldest son.
But not the baby.
The baby who is four going on five, I thought, somehow would stay small for longer ... or forever?
And then he's here springing through the living room and yanking on too-small 4T clothes and announcing his brother's size 6 fits so much better.
And there he is sucking down raspberries and a hot dog covered with ketchup at lunch and declaring he's still hungry
reminding me he is still growing, growing, growing.
I get lost in a memory at the sight of his ketchup-covered cheeks and for a moment I'm lamenting how quickly the chub fell from his sweet face ...
but I recover in a few moments of deep breathes
and I emerge from the wistful
Five-Minute Friday is helping me get back into the groove of writing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker's.