statute of limitations

This morning at church I noticed Gryffin looking up at me during the singing time.  I leaned over and asked, “do you want me to hold you?”  He nodded and said quietly into my ear, “yeah, but I don’t have to stay long if it hurts your back.”    Forget my back.  Up he came and up he stayed for 2 whole songs.  In the world of a 4.5 year-old, that’s a long time, and today I LOVED singing time for the space and time it allowed me to hold my big boy.

I feel like time is running out when it comes to holding him that way.  The gig is almost up. With kids you never know when you’re going to do or see something for the last time.   You only know it in hindsight, in retrospect, when you suddenly realize that your kid isn’t, say, sucking his fingers anymore and you only just now noticed.  Or that your baby is pronouncing “three” as clear as day instead of “flea!”   When did that start, you wonder.   Or maybe that your kids have stopped singing to the dessert fairy and just ask for a brownie now like… well, like a regular person.

It’s not always sad.  I don’t think I’ll be bumming too hard when Isaiah misses his aim and pees all over the floor for the last time.  Or when Gryff stops wiping his nose on my shirt (every.single.day).   No big loss there.   But some things are harder to let go.   And holding my  boys with their heads resting on my shoulder ranks up there at the very top.

Me and Gryff, 2008