Monday Memories

One of the reasons that I teach preschool is that I love 4 and 5 year-olds. It is easily my favorite age. As I was talking with a couple of boys in my class this morning, it struck my how much I miss the days when my oldest boy was 5. Over the years I have noticed how life changes and how I find myself reminiscing a lot about when my children were younger. But today was different. I really, really missed this five-year-old. I missed him in a way that you would miss someone who is no longer around, not someone who has grown and changed and you miss the person that they used to be.

Today I felt as if this big boy:
and this little boy:

are two totally different people and I have an empty space in my heart where the younger one used to be. I love the big boy more than ever. He is funny and kind and dependable and good. But here is what I miss about the little boy.

I miss choosing his clothes for him in the morning. I miss buying clothes for him and knowing that he will wear anything I give him.

I miss the days when he would rather be home with me than anywhere else. I miss the days when I was the one person that he would rather play with than anyone else.

I miss holding his hand in the parking lot.

I miss him coming home from school, excited to tell me about all of the new things that he learned that day telling me how much he missed me while he was gone.

I miss the days when he got hurt and would come running to me for help.

I miss the days when the only person he would write a note to was me.

I miss the days when my opinion was the only one that mattered.

So now that I've put these thought down, it seems that what I miss is the fact that his world used to revolve around me and now it doesn't. Sounds a little selfish of me. I'm so glad that he's growing up and life really is about letting go, which I'm doing ok with. Maybe I'm a little sentimental because today he's spending the afternoon working on a gas-powered go-cart that he bought. His friends are coming over to help him and they're using spark plugs and gasoline. When really, I wish I could spend another afternoon like this: