You know what I love? What nearly drives me to sentimental tears every time I see them?
(OK, OK, yes, the usual -- my kids playing together, a hug from my boy, the smell of a newborn baby ....
Size 4T boy underwear.
Yes, it's true. Maybe I'm totally wacky, but the sight of the teeny copies of adult skivvies, so unbaby yet so un-big-boy, the sight of these I-wanna-be-big things hanging off the oh-so skinny body of my sweet boy just makes me want to weep at the cruelty of time and memory. My sweet boy, how he flashes from insecure toddler into confident preschooler, how I can now only glimpse the baby-boy he was when he is asleep.
How he is rushing head-long into growing up, how he is trying so hard to hurry it along, and I just want to stop and inhale for the last time the sweet smell of his hair. Except, you never know that the last time is the last time until months later, when you think, when was the last time he said "'pooter" instead of "computer"? When did he learn to hop on one foot like that?
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