My baby has grown up.
Tomorrow is his second birthday. The mind reels. But the calendar tells me that it is in fact April, and that it is in fact 2012. If I had a time machine I wouldn't stop his progress. But every day he grows a little bit away from me, and I feel it. Every time he asks for Daddy and not me. Every time he just turns and waves and runs to go play with something, ambivalent towards my departure ... I feel it.
But then after bath time, he'll cuddle up in his fluffy towel, and his eyes are tired and he snuggles and I know that he will be mine for a bit longer yet, and I'm glad for those precious moments where I know I'm wanted.
He's still my baby ... but really he's a big boy now.
And that's truly as it should be.
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