The Littlest

Sometimes I forget how little  D is. He may be turning two in December and saying all these words and climbing up on everything, but he's still so young, and I forget. And because I forget, I sometimes let my anger get the better of me and I become unkind to him. I start yelling instead of acknowledging his childishness. I start telling him no, even before he can explore. 

At the end of the day when I stare at his beautiful sleeping face, I feel like I have not seized the day with him. I feel guilty for having not savour his littleness - his innocence. 

I wish I could write a huge post it note in my brain to remind me, when I forget, that my baby boy will not be little forever. That one day he'll no longer run to me crying for comfort. That he'll no longer try to put rocks in his mouth in a bid to start a game of chasey. He'll no longer call 'mummy' in his sweet little voice just for the sake of it. Or give me a random big hug while I'm nursing R. Or want to be sleeping right in the middle of A and I in our bed, hands over A's face and legs on my tummy, because that's exactly the spot he wants to be, the most comfortable and comforting position for him.

So tonight, I'm setting a resolution, to be kinder to my baby boy. To give him more hugs and kisses and to tell him 'I love you' more, before I lose the baby in my beloved boy.

I wish they stay little for longer!

Xx,

Chez