Today is an experiment.
Wee One has inadvertently created something for us that I will cherish forever, and she might too, if we carry it on that long.
(Caution: The following is a slightly hyperbolic announcement of Wee One’s genius. Only slightly.)
Wee One got a big girl bed this weekend, a little unexpectedly, and I was having a hard time with it. Then tonight happened.
On the day after Halloween, Wee One’s preschool had a little festival set up for them, including a parade where they showed off their costumes.
This is the end of my fourth summer with Wee One. She’s growing up. Just like everyone promised, it happened too fast and did not come soon enough.
A memory I wish to save about putting Wee One to bed on night.
The tag line on this blog is “I write to stop time,” and as I get older, I find I want to stop time more and more. (Actually, I don’t know if that’s true. There were moments I loved and wanted to hold onto when I was younger. Of course, I destroyed all my journals from before the accident and those are the memories I don’t have.)
I have to begin letting go.
Right now, Wee One is in a phase when she tells me, “You need me!” which means, “I need you,” or “I want you here with me.”
I used to say that to my mom. I would say, “I wanna hold you.”
One day while E.C. was planning a small baby caper
She felt something odd in her diaper di diaper.
This past summer, I signed Wee One up for swimming lessons. Just six weeks at the community center, I wanted her to learn some respect for the water when she’s around it.
It was the first time she’d taken a formal-ish “class,” and I had some concerns. And other thoughts. Here’s a sampling of my second week’s thoughts: